


Quid Pro Quo

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Harry Potter, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Harry Potter Raises Teddy Lupin, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jealousy, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Not Epilogue Compliant, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Past Child Abuse, Post-Canon, Post-War, Professor Harry Potter, References to Illness, Severus Snape Lives, Teacher Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:55:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 88,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24164737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: AU Severus Snape survived the war. Harry decided against being an Auror.A few years down the line, Snape married Harry in order to help counter a deadly blood curse, probably placed on him while he was still working under cover as a Death Eater. They may not get on brilliantly still, but Harry is willing to remain his spouse for as long as it takes, and also to help cement Severus's rocky reputation as a hero.Just as Harry has accepted that Severus will always dislike him, a new development in their relationship challenges that.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Teddy Lupin & Harry Potter
Comments: 498
Kudos: 1762
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me!
> 
> Also minor pairing Ron/Hermione (I apologise in advance as although they are together in this fic I don't give them a lot of focus as a pairing. This wasn't fully intentional, it's just they're properly established and I just focus a LOT on Harry/Severus instead.)
> 
> I freely admit that this story dives into things without much build up, and with probably a lot of exposition, but that seems to be how it wants to come out. There will be some explanation of what happened in the immediate aftermath of the war, along with a bit more detail of the curse on Snape, but I hope it's not too confusing, anyway.
> 
> It blends together a bit of stuff from the films and books, but is generally more in keeping with book canon.
> 
> This has been inspired by a few fics, but mainly The Marriage Stone by Josephine Darcy which I read waaaay back when. It doesn't follow that plot really apart from the protective marriage bond bit, and a couple of other ideas about the Wizarding World that come up.
> 
> Many thanks, and I really hope everyone enjoys!

Author Note:

Hello gang. I received a comment on this fic recently, which I actually can’t figure out is legit or someone flaming for the hell of it as they are also anonymous and by the looks of it only read the first chapter – or possibly the first paragraph. I don’t want to encourage any trolls, nor do I particularly want to get into a political discussion over a fan fic – which is just that, in my eyes – a fan fic.

However, in case this person was making a real point, and if others reading my fic are getting the same impression from it (I hope not) I would like to stress that I am not using this fic to promote any kind of pro-racism argument. I do not believe in neutrality over these things, it is dangerous and always aids the oppressor, nor would I excuse the defence of someone who is racist.

As a rule I do not engage with trolls, but I wanted to make my stance clear. I am not a professional writer, so it may be that I lack the skills to articulate Harry’s point in his articles (which we won’t see much more of), which is simply that Slytherin is a house in a school which has had some bad members and some good, which absolutely needs to lose some of its more popular views, but that these people are still kids and need education as well as correction. In reality it would probably be best to do away with the housing system at Hogwarts altogether, but this isn't reality. My address of these issues is loose at best, and not intended as my interpretation of current or recent events. I appreciate that sometimes life imitates art, or rather vice versa, but there is nothing deliberate about it here.

Sorry to put such a heavy-handed message above a fic, but I was alarmed by the comment and while I don’t think the individual who wrote it was particularly constructive in their argument I would be horrified if anyone thought I was trying to parallel fiction with reality and use it to excuse any kind of prejudice, especially with what is happening in the world right now. I don’t want any arguments in the comments section, and I will delete any comment I think is just someone trolling. Constructive criticism is always welcome, however, and if people genuinely feel there is a problematic or offensive theme to this story I will consider making some edits, but on the understanding that I find a lot of things problematic in Harry Potter (including Snape) but that I am running with it for the sake of fun and not as a tool to excuse or promote certain behaviours.

  
Thank you for reading.

> Any unrest between students [at Hogwarts], particularly those of opposing houses, will time and time again be dismissed as harmless rivalry, even by those of us who know full well the more serious issues underlying all the tension. Teachers may punish bad behaviour with detention or taking of house points, but the elephant in the room goes unmentioned, and with each school year it grows. Now, in the aftermath of the war, the very real politics of the Hogwarts housing system have finally come into public discussion, but not in the way they so desperately need to. To lay the blame at one particular house’s feet is to condemn generations of children to fear and resentment, both from outside and within their common room. It ignores the fact that this house and its members have been treated with derision and suspicion since its namesake left over a thousand years ago. It attempts to paint a group of people as inherently bad, when just years ago many of us were fighting against a movement that championed the same thinking – just against a different group. And the irony is that none of it does anything to challenge the anti-Muggle-born beliefs or pure-blood mania that led to the war in the first place. It is now more important than ever that we recognise how and why we have all failed to address these issues that divided us before we even stepped foot at Hogwarts, and start thinking about how we can change it.
> 
> – Harry Potter, from: _‘Culture Clash – The Hogwarts Houses’_ in _The Quibbler_ , February 3rd, 2002

Harry watched from the narrow window above the stairs, which overlooked the garden where Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy were talking in hushed tones together. He couldn’t hear them, but he knew that Lucius Malfoy kept being hauled into the Ministry to explain his dealings with dark magical artefacts, and so it would probably remain for some time. Harry doubted the man would ever be returned to Azkaban, but the repeated humiliations were clearly taking a toll on the family. Malfoy had never looked so downtrodden.

Severus, as Harry had finally gotten into the habit of calling him, placed a hand comfortingly on Malfoy’s shoulder, and Harry looked away. He moved away from the window, knowing that whatever the consequences of being caught watching almost certainly wouldn’t be worth it.

It was odd; he hadn’t wanted Severus’s good opinion since he’d been eleven years old and wondering why this stranger hated him so much. The man’s suspicious behaviour and relentless derision had soon killed off any interest Harry had in seeking his approval, and yet he found despair clawing at him at the sight of such open affection from the man. It reminded him of growing up seeing Dudley kissed, hugged and doted on, of his aunt’s ridiculous pet names for her precious son. Of course, eventually Harry had just found it all pretty revolting and rather funny, but there had always been that sting of hurt; of knowing that such love, as overenthusiastic as it might be, did exist, and that it was not for him.

Severus did not seem to think of Malfoy as a son, but it was perhaps as close as he’d ever get. He’d always favoured him at school; even above the other Slytherins. Perhaps he understood the pressures that the child of a pureblood fanatic could endure. Not that there had seemed to be many pressures on Draco in the early years, but Harry knew he couldn’t assume anything anymore. He also knew he should have gotten over it by now, but he was so frustrated that Severus could show someone like _Malfoy_ such respect; fondness even, but still think Harry an arrogant brat.

Harry went into the front room, doubting that he would get any work done today, but still intending to sit at his writing desk and pretend. Taking a seat, he sighed and rubbed at his forehead, willing hot, angry tears away.

If Severus had despised him for himself, that would have been fair enough, and maybe by now they had enough history for that to be the case. But even so, that wasn’t where their animosity had started. Severus had hated him because of his father, and because of his own guilt and sorrow at the loss of his mother. It was just as the Dursleys had been; reviling him because of who his parents were. Harry snorted. Severus couldn’t possibly have loved Lily Evans half as much as he’d hated James Potter.

A few minutes later, Harry was startled by a knock on the door, and even more startled when Draco Malfoy walked in.

“Potter,” said Malfoy casually. There was now no evidence on his face of any troubles he might have relayed to their former teacher. He was simply looking about the room in his usual bored way. His gaze was drawn to the left corner of the room beside the fireplace, where the television stood upon a short cabinet. He blinked at the screen, as if expecting it to spring to life and explain itself.

Harry wondered if he’d had a good poke around the rest of the house before coming up. Twelve Grimmauld Place was, after all, a former Black residence. Narcissa Malfoy had been gracious enough to confirm she had no interest in challenging Harry’s ownership of the place, although he imagined that the recent backlash against dark magical objects and pureblood mania _might_ have played a part in that decision. Not that there was much left in the house that she would have recognised; Harry had spent the last few years redecorating and getting rid of anything that reminded him of the building’s miserable history. The place was now light and bright, and even Kreacher had been persuaded to finally remove his old mistress’s portrait from the entrance hall. Wherever it had gone, Harry was happy not knowing.

“Hello, Malfoy,” said Harry, standing up. “Can I help you?” He was careful to keep his tone polite, but even so, Malfoy couldn’t have missed the confusion in his voice. They hadn’t spoken since just after the war, when Harry had issued an awkward apology for nearly killing him in sixth year and tried to assure him he hadn’t known what _Sectumsempra_ did. Malfoy hadn’t exactly been amenable, nor had he rebuffed the apology. He’d just seemed to want to get away, and indeed he hadn’t returned to Hogwarts for his missed final year until the next one after Harry graduated, and on the odd occasion they’d run into each other, Malfoy had always pretended he hadn’t seen him.

Malfoy turned his attention back to him, his lip curling as he looked Harry up and down. Harry tried not to fidget. He hadn’t grown since their late school years; and Malfoy was now at least a head taller than him. “I just really came to see how Severus was doing,” he drawled, and Harry nodded, still waiting for an explanation for this visitation. “And I also wanted to let you know that you’ve done the right thing. I mean, of course, _you_ would have.” He smirked, giving Harry the once over again. “But he’s a good man.”

Yes, thought Harry. A good man, but not a nice one. He just nodded again.

“And so I wanted to make sure you weren’t thinking of giving up at all,” continued Malfoy. “I know you’re not... _familiar_ with these sorts of curses.”

Harry shrugged. “I didn’t do this for shits and giggles, if that’s what you think. I’m not going to pack it in now.”

Malfoy’s gaze seemed to grow harder. “Still... I know we all have our history with each other, and you’re doing him a favour and what have you, but that doesn’t mean the man deserves to be miserable.”

Harry sighed. He bit back the urge to ask why Malfoy hadn’t offered _himself_ up as a marital prospect for Severus if he was so concerned, because he knew he was already engaged, and besides, Severus was only Half-blood, wasn’t he? “I’m not trying to _make_ him miserable. I’ve given him as much space as I can while we’re here.”

“Oh, yes, I’ve heard you’re moving into the castle with him.”

“Yes.”

Malfoy snickered. “Harry Potter, Professor Snape’s kept boy.”

“Actually, I’ll be there in my own capacity as Professor of Cultural Studies.”

“Cultural? I don’t remember it.”

“It’s a new subject to help Muggle-born students acclimatise to the Wizarding World and students from a completely magical upbringing to better understand them. It may or may not eventually blend with Muggle Studies, but we’re not sure yet.”

Malfoy paused. “ _Muggle_ _Studies_?” he repeated, as though it was something illicit. He looked genuinely stumped.

“That’s right.” Harry kept his voice as matter-of-fact as possible, but he wasn’t really sure how this discussion was going to go. He knew the Malfoys were still proud of their pure-blood status, and even in these Post-war times he thought it highly unlikely he and Draco could ever be really friendly. He also doubted Lucius Malfoy would have tolerated Cultural Studies if he’d still been a school governer. “And potentially History of Magic might get assimilated in there too, but we’ll have to see.”

“Good grief, is McGonagall punishing you for something?”

“The subject is in dire need of revamping, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I’d say it needs abandoning altogether. Are you really going to tread on the toes of old Binns?”

“Actually he was quite open to the idea. Turns out no one else has ever shown any interest in his job.”

Malfoy shook his head in mock-surprise. “Imagine that!”

“He’s just dutiful, I suppose.”

Malfoy stared at Harry a moment longer, before shaking his head. “Anyway, you will _try_ to make this bearable for Severus?”

Harry gritted his teeth, swallowing his annoyance once more. “Of course,” he said, with fake cheer. “I’m doing this to help him, after all.”

“Yes, it’s ever so _good_ of you.”

Harry couldn’t help rolling his eyes. “And I’ll do my best to keep out of his way and things when the occasion calls for it. It’s not ideal, of course it isn’t, but there’s no good in being childish about things. We’ll just have to make the best of it.”

Malfoy was giving him a strange look. “Yes, well,” he said finally, straightening up and looking around again. “Rather nice place you’ve got here.”

“Thank you.”

“Used to belong to the Blacks, so I hear.”

“Yes. Sirius left it to me.”

“ – Ah.”

Harry felt acutely aware of the expanse of wall above his writing desk, where the tapestry of the Black family tree had once hung. Kreacher had, once again, helped in removing it, and Harry assumed it was now rolled up in a shrine to the House-elf’s former masters somewhere. In the tapestry’s place was now a collection of framed photographs. He wasn’t sure if Malfoy was aware of its absence, and suddenly wondered if Narcissa Malfoy might have asked her son to inspect what had been done to the house.

The tapestry, however, did not seem to be on Draco’s mind. “What... what _is_ that... thing?” he asked, pointing at the TV.

“Oh, the television?” said Harry. “It’s... basically a screen you watch for entertainment.” Malfoy was still staring at it, his nose wrinkled slightly in an uncanny likeness of his mother. “The Muggles broadcast their news and sports on it, and then there are these shows, sort of like plays they might put on every week.”

“And why do _you_ have one? Is this for your – what was it called?”

“Cultural Studies? Mm, partly. They put good stuff on though.”

“ _Do_ they?”

“I wouldn’t bother questioning it, Draco,” came another voice, making them both jump and look round. Severus was standing in the doorway, looking decidedly unhappy about something. “It’s about the only time he sits still and keeps his mouth shut.”

Harry just laughed. No longer bound by school rules, he found that humour was an excellent way of dealing with Severus’s jibes, and it tended to throw the man off. Right now, however, Severus was ignoring him in favour of eyeing Malfoy. It felt like being back at Hogwarts, but with the strange event of _Malfoy_ being the one in trouble with Professor Snape for a change. This whole scenario felt completely surreal.

“I thought you were on your way out?” Severus asked him, and Malfoy did go a little pink across the forehead.

“Ah, yes,” said Malfoy. “Just catching up with Potty, that’s all.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but was still too amused to get irritated.

Severus didn’t even blink. “Because the pair of you were such firm friends at school?”

Malfoy shrugged. “Yes, well, water under the bridge and all that.” He seemed almost put out at being interrupted, and he tossed one last suspicious look at the TV before nodding at them both. “I’ll say goodbye, then.”

“Goodbye,” said Severus firmly.

“Bye, Malfoy,” said Harry, nodding at him.

“Potter.” Malfoy swaggered out, closely followed by Severus, who it seemed was going to check he actually left this time.

Harry listened out for any last words spoken between the two men, but if there were any they must have been whispered. He heard the front door slam and then Severus stomping back up the stairs, and hastily sat back down at his desk and picked up his quill. He grabbed an unfinished letter and began continuing a sentence on it without much thought.

“What did Draco want with you?” Severus asked sharply as he reappeared in the doorway.

Harry looked up at him nonchalantly, and then went on writing. “He wants to make sure I’m treating you well,” he said.

“It didn’t sound like it.”

Severus was as suspicious of him as ever, and as with his insults, Harry treated it with a kind of amused indifference. “He was curious about the TV.”

“That much was obvious. I thought you two didn’t speak.”

“We don’t. He came all the way up here to check I’m keeping my half of the bargain.” Harry looked up at him, serious all of a sudden. “He obviously cares a lot about you.”

Severus ignored the statement. “And what did you say to him?”

“I assured him that I have no intention of abusing you in the near future.” Severus sneered, but Harry spoke again before he could say anything. “I’m going to have lunch, do you want anything?” He stood and looked at him.

“No – thank you.”

Harry tried not to laugh again at how difficult Severus still found being polite to him, and moved towards the door, which the other man was blocking. “Excuse me,” he said sweetly, and Severus gave him a stern look. Although he didn’t tower over Harry in quite the same way as he’d done when they first met, he was on the taller side; somewhere between the height of Malfoy and Ron. He was still plenty imposing, with his grounded stillness and unblinking gaze. You would not think, looking at him, that just a few months ago he had been on death’s door yet again. Finally, and with just the faintest hint of amusement in his eye, he stepped aside.

Harry wasn’t really sure why he did it, but before he could stop himself, he found himself winking at Severus before exiting the room. Harry felt as though the man was staring at him all the way down the hall and stairs, but he didn’t look back to find out.


	2. Five Years Old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Hermione discuss things at the Burrow, and Teddy comes to a grave realisation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read the first chapter and who commented and kudosed and everything! I'm thrilled you liked it, and hope you enjoy this next part, too.

_Culture Clash – The Hogwarts Houses_ had started off as an open letter of protest against anti-Slytherin sentiment brewing in the media and public, and then just took on a life of its own. One rather grim January morning, an incensed Harry found himself scrawling out his first draft after reading that the current Slytherin House Captain had been hexed by two grown men just as he was on his way back from a Hogsmeade trip. He began the piece by condemning the attack, and from there the article had morphed into something much bigger.

It was the most effort he’d ever put into a piece of writing, but he just hadn’t been able to stop until he’d said everything he wanted to say. He even wrote to some of his ex-classmates from the other houses, people he didn’t know all that well, asking them what their experiences of inter-house relationships had been. Naturally, he’d _had_ to acknowledge the anti-Muggleborn sentiments of Salazar Slytherin and many of his followers, but stated vehemently that these issues began way before the Sorting Hat placed a child, and that they certainly did not end with school, either. Finally, when two weeks later he had everything he wanted, he’d sent the whole thing off to Hermione, requesting her opinion. He’d expected there to be some edits, even though he hadn’t asked in case she was too busy, but Hermione was _delighted_ with the piece, and even returned it in person so that she could talk him into getting it published.

The article caused a storm when it appeared in _The Quibbler_ , and for once Harry didn’t care if his fame was the initial reason for all the fuss. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so angry about something – not since the lead up to the war, anyway. The article, along with the handful of follow-ups Harry submitted over the following months, were the major reason Professor McGonagall had asked him to come and teach at Hogwarts in the first place. A large proportion of the content he’d prepared for his lessons was referenced in his articles, particularly the differences that a student from a Muggle background could expect from a magical one. Harry hoped that Cultural Studies would now help to bridge those gaps, and banish harmful urban myths about pure-bloods and Muggle-borns.

Yet again, Hermione had been a big help in outlining a basic program for the classes, and how the subject might develop with each year. Harry felt guilty about her putting in so much when she was already working for the Ministry, but she had waved away his concerns. 

“I’ve got a really good feeling about this, Harry,” she said one late August afternoon as they were seated together in the garden of the rebuilt Burrow.

“I think I do too,” said Harry, glancing away as Teddy let out a whoop of glee.

Teddy was gliding about on his toy broomstick, practicing dodging imaginary Bludgers and occasionally swooping down on unsuspecting birds. He was getting too big for it, Harry noted, as he watched the tail of the broom dragging through the grass. He would speak to Andromeda about getting Teddy a new one for Christmas.

“You think you do?” prompted Hermione gently, and Harry looked back at her. “You’re not nervous, are you?”

“A bit. No one’s ever really tried this before.”

“No, but there’s a first time for everything.”

“I suppose. I’ve never officially _taught_ , either. I have no idea what the kids are going to make of it.”

“You’re a great teacher. You explain clearly, you’re supportive, you put people at ease.”

“Thanks... it’s just that _that_ was the DA. Everyone _wanted_ to learn those things as much as they needed them. They wanted to get away from Umbridge. And it was all practical, which holds instant appeal.”

Hermione drew herself up a little. “Some people enjoy theory. And your course has practical elements.” Her fingers flexed slightly in that way they always did when she was itching to start work. “And it’s all in development, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Harry smiled perceptively. “We can see how it goes. I’m sure I’ll need you for some adjustments before long.”

“Look, Harry!” Teddy shrieked, making them both turn. “Look!”

Harry looked round in time to spot Teddy clinging upside down to his toy broomstick, his clothes and (currently) black and white hair skimming the grass neatly. “Brilliant, Teds!” he called. “But be careful, yeah?”

The little broomstick’s trajectory changed then, aiming towards where Harry and Hermione were sitting. As it approached the boundary where the grass was cut short, it began to slow, and Teddy dropped his legs, allowing himself to be lazily dragged a few feet before finally releasing it altogether. Harry laughed as the boy disappeared completely into the long grass in one fluid movement, as the broomstick floated calmly a little way further, and then finally stopped.

Hermione stood and crept over, starting to sift her way through the grass with mock-difficulty. “Hm, I know he’s here _somewhere_ ,” she said, prompting a giggle. “Aha!”

Teddy jumped to his feet with the kind of speediness that only a child or a pixie could manage, and darted away, not wanting to be caught.

Hermione waved her fist at him threateningly and returned to her seat with a grin. “Where _does_ he get all that energy?”

“Dromeda says Tonks was the same at his age. Maybe it’s just... being young.”

“I don’t think _I_ was ever quite that wild.”

Harry smiled, picturing a tiny, bushy-haired little girl scowling at all her misbehaving classmates. “Nah. You were saving it up for later.”

Hermione shook her head in amusement and watched Teddy do a cartwheel beautifully, only to land in a heap straight back into the long grass. “How does he get along with Professor Snape?”

Harry lowered his voice. “They still haven’t spent a lot of time together. I think Severus is avoiding being around him, to be honest.”

“Do you think it’s because of Remus?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe? You know him – he doesn’t like children, anyway. He stays away most weekends, which I don’t think is really _because_ of Teddy but I’m sure it’s a contributing factor.”

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. “It’s strange he became a teacher. I mean, I know that was part of the whole plan with Dumbledore, but he did go back to it. Twice.”

“Maybe it was more for the Slytherins. Or it was just easier for him to accept work there after everything.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Teddy curiously, having wandered over when he’d noticed the two of them whispering to each other.

“We’re talking about Severus, actually,” said Harry. “About how he’s going back to teach at Hogwarts this year.”

“With you.”

“That’s right.”

Teddy pouted, his hair abruptly going back to what was presumed by everyone to be its natural, mousy-brown. “When you’re going away _forever_.”

“Not forever. I’ll still see you some weekends.”

“And Christmas!” Hermione piped up.

Teddy stopped pouting. “Yeah,” he said nonchalantly, but his brow was still furrowed.

“And every summer and Easter,” continued Harry.

“...Yeah... it’s just – it’s just...”

“It’s a change,” Harry finished for him, and Teddy nodded. “I know, mate. I’ll really miss you and your grandma. But you’re going to have a great time. You’re in the proper years at school now!”

Teddy stuck his chin out proudly. “Year One.”

“That’s so exciting!” said Hermione, beaming at him.

“Yeah,” said Teddy in that casual voice he reserved for Harry’s friends.

“So – oh, of course! I forgot you’d turned five for a moment there.”

Teddy seemed to have gone shy, and so Harry gave a nod and reached to brush some dry grass from the boy’s hair. “Yep,” he said.

“That’s really grown up,” said Hermione. “Five years old!” She was saying it for Teddy’s benefit, but Harry heard the moment in her voice when it fully resonated with her. Her gaze went almost glassy as, no doubt, the memories began to surface.

They had each marked the Battle of Hogwarts back in May as everyone did. Memorials and silences were held up and down the country, although Harry suspected that Hermione’s busy workload had meant the tributes and grief had passed by as if it were just another year. _Five years_ seemed different, somehow. Five years was significant. Five years should have felt like a lifetime ago.

But it didn’t.

Hermione was pulling herself back to reality as quickly as she’d slipped out of it. “You’ll be going to Hogwarts before you know it,” she remarked to Teddy, needlessly straightening her skirt.

“Yeah!” crowed Teddy.

Harry inhaled exaggeratedly. It was very strange to imagine Teddy attending their old school. He’d looked after him regularly since the war ended and so he knew the boy was growing fast, but somehow he still thought of him as a baby. “Hopefully I’ll be your teacher,” he said.

“Yay!”

“You _will_ be,” said Hermione knowingly.

“So no misbehaving,” Harry said to Teddy.

“Oh,” said Teddy, looking extremely disappointed and making Harry and Hermione laugh. He frowned. “So...”

“So?”

“Does that mean that... _Severus_ is going to be my teacher?”

“Yes, probably. I don’t think he has any plans to retire soon.”

Teddy looked horrified, and Harry couldn’t blame him. He knew how intimidating Severus was to a child. The man still had the ability to command absolute silence with one look. “It will be all right, Teds.”

“He’s a very good teacher,” Hermione put in, not entirely convincingly.

It was probably fair to say Severus had been an _effective_ teacher when he was able to rein in his own personal issues. Which had been never, in their case.

“Why did you marry him?” Teddy demanded of Harry, good mood forgotten.

“Ah, you know why. We fell in love.”

  
“ _Why_?”

Harry bit his lip. “...That’s hard to explain, Teds. It’s sort of like when you really, really like someone. You might have a lot in common with them, which helps. Or you just... like them.”

“Hm.”

Harry sighed. Despite the necessity of the marriage, his relationship with Severus _did_ need to appear genuine in public. Thankfully they were both keen to avoid the limelight, and so there had been no excruciating, staged kisses or anything, but in order for them to be left alone so the bond lasted as long as possible, it was crucial that they at least pretended. The curse against Severus was a kind of blood spell, and even countering it with a bond not officiated by the Ministry could land them with an accusation of using dark magic. But Harry had known that they would not have stepped in for Severus; not in time, anyway. And that was the other reason for the pretence; Severus was still not completely trusted by everyone. Harry had devoted a lot of time after the war to keeping him out of Azkaban and assuring people he’d been a spy for the Order the entire time. He _had_ successfully cleared Severus’s name in terms of his role in the war, but even Kingsley Shacklebolt, the new Minister for Magic, had seen it necessary to interview Harry privately about his opinion of the man. Harry imagined that Kingsley knew the true nature of his marriage, but ever a good sport, the man had left them to it. Not even _he_ could convince all of Wizengamot, and so it was best left to Harry and Severus to stick it out together.

Of course, Harry wasn’t worried that _Teddy_ suspected anything; the boy accepted most of what he was told but he couldn’t be trusted with any secrets yet. He was at that age where he could easily blab things without thinking. He attended a Muggle primary school and had already been hauled up before the head teacher for changing his brown hair to bright green during the thirty-minute morning break. Mrs. Goldman was actually a very kind woman who, while impressed by Teddy’s ability to dye his hair without staining his clothes or the school toilets, had to insist that he change it back as per the rules.

“Otherwise they’ll all want green hair, you see,” she’d said to Harry, who was picking Teddy up that day and so it fell to him to deal with it. “And then it’s phone calls from all the other parents saying, ‘Oh, my child tried to change his hair colour with a felt-tip-pen in the sink!’”

Teddy had been talked into not morphing his appearance during school again, but he was still not as subtle about things as Harry and Andromeda might have liked. His teachers were often writing comments in his workbooks about how interesting and imaginative they found his stories about wands and dragons and ‘kwidich’, but that, “You really do need to stick to the given assignment, Teddy.” And when he had been told Harry was getting married to Severus, Teddy made such a loud exclamation of disgust that the entire restaurant had gone quiet for a second. (Teddy was also at the age when _love_ and _kissing_ were just disgusting, although he was kind enough to tell Harry he thought him sensible for choosing a boy and not some horrible girl.) And so Teddy was not in the know.

“Well I’m _never_ getting married,” Teddy announced. “I’m going to live on my own and have loads of dogs, and – ”

“Hello!”

The three of them turned to see Arthur Weasley standing at the back door, still brushing soot off his robes from the Floo.

“Hi!” Harry and Hermione chorused, and Harry stood up as he approached.

“Harry!” said Arthur, drawing him into a tight hug as they exchanged pleasantries.

Teddy looked annoyed at being interrupted for about two seconds before he ran off and grabbed up his toy broomstick again.

Arthur waved after him. “Hello, Teddy!” he called.

“Hello!” Teddy yelled over his shoulder as he glided away.

Arthur turned back to Harry and Hermione, a serious look on his face. “How’s your television, Harry?”

Suddenly reminded of Malfoy’s confused expression, Harry started laughing.

Arthur frowned in concern. “ – Has something happened to it?”

“No – no, it’s fine. I just remembered something funny. Sorry.”

“Oh, well. Are you staying for dinner?”

_“Yes they are!”_ came Molly’s voice from inside the house before Harry could respond.

“Excellent! I’ll put the kettle on.” He went back inside.

Harry tapped Hermione on the leg as he sat down again. “I forgot to tell you Malfoy came over last week,” he said.

“Junior?” asked Hermione.

“Yes. He spoke to Severus about something, but then he came up to ‘make sure I wasn't giving up.’”

“On Sna- Severus?” Hermione frowned. “Why would you?”

“That’s what I said. Maybe he’s been complaining, but I’d say he’s too proud for that. Mind you, I think Malfoy also wanted a good poke about the house as well.” He explained about Draco’s fascination with the TV.

Hermione looked a bit worried. “Everything’s all right, though? I mean, as well as it _can_ be?”

“I think so. It’s more awkward than anything else these days, but we’ve sort of got used to each other’s habits now.”

“I still can’t believe you had to do this, Harry. Well, I know you _had_ to. But... this was supposed to be your time to live your life.”

“I’m living it. I have you guys and Teddy, and my home and a new job. I’m not in a bad place. And no one else could have done it really. I know how to live with people I don’t get on with, you know?”

Hermione shook her head sadly. “The idea wasn’t that you went straight back to that, though.”

“It’s only been seven months, and Grimmauld Place is much bigger than Privet Drive. Believe me, it’s easier.”

And it was true. In many ways Severus was in the more uneasy position of living under _Harry’s_ roof. He knew how bitter the man was about being indebted to anyone; especially the son of his worst enemy, and he could only imagine that the set up was just salt in the wound. It was the more logical choice, however. Grimmauld Place was still technically the meeting point of (what remained of) the Order of the Phoenix, and its size and location just lent itself to the occasion. Harry had never been to Severus’s house, but he knew from his glimpses of the man’s childhood that living there together would have put them in uncomfortably close quarters.

Hermione wasn’t alone in her pity of him, but Harry didn’t think any of it was needed. It wasn’t as though he’d leapt at the opportunity to marry one of the most hated figures of his teenage years, but once he’d found out Severus’s life was on the line, there was no way he couldn’t have done it. Things would always be difficult between them, and there would never be any affection or warmth. However, they seemed to have reached an almost silent understanding these days, and he really couldn’t ask for more than that.


	3. Some Welcome News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Hermione have dinner with the Weasleys, and there's an announcement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, so just to note that although I have shamelessly borrowed details such as names and jobs and things from the Epilogue and Cursed Child, this will not be compliant with either. Thanks! :)

The rebuilt Burrow was a little more refined than its predecessor. With Arthur’s recent promotion, and no longer having to support several children through school on top of everything else, the couple had been able to construct a neater, more uniform home above the old pigpen. It reached around the same height as it had before, but there were fewer bedrooms crammed in where they were no longer necessary. Harry would always miss the ramshackle place he remembered, but this new building was just as warm and welcoming as ever, and Arthur and Molly were certainly entitled to a bit of luxury after everything that had happened.

Percy arrived not long after Arthur, having chosen to apparate and walk the short distance from the boundary to the front door. “Evening, everyone!” he said importantly. “I’ve had the most interesting – Ah! Hello, Harry.”

Harry, who was both manually and magically peeling the vegetables for dinner, accepted a slightly awkward hug from Percy with a peeler in one hand and a carrot in the other.

Molly came over for her hug, and to admire her third son’s rather formidable new haircut.

“Are we expecting everyone tonight?” Percy asked her.

“Yes, all except Charlie, of course. He says we’re unlikely to see him until Christmas, which reminds me, we should think about what we’re going to do.”

“Actually, I was wondering if you’d all like to come to mine again?” said Harry, before turning to Hermione, who was sieving flour into a bowl. “If you and Ron would be okay with that, ‘Mione?”

“Of course,” said Hermione, “it’s still your house.”

Harry smiled and looked back at Molly.

“If you’re sure?” she asked.

“Definitely!” said Harry. “I enjoyed it last time, and anyway it’s a waste of space not using the dining room.”

“That’d be lovely, Harry.”

“Excellent!” said Percy, sounding remarkably like his father. “I’ll look forward to it.” He went over to greet Hermione, and they began talking very fast together about some matter or other up at the Ministry.

Molly waved her wand at the stove, which opened for a large spoon to float in and start basting the joint of lamb inside. Teddy, who was reading a tattered copy of _The_ _Tales of Beedle the Bard_ in the large armchair at the back of the room, perked up.

“Hungry, dear?” said Molly, noticing the boy’s first sign of movement in a while. She reached into the fruit bowl on the table. “Apple to tide you over?”

“Yes, please!” Teddy put the book aside and rushed over to take the apple.

“What do we say, Teds?” Harry prompted gently.

“Thank you!”

As Teddy dashed back to his chair, Harry nodded at Molly and mouthed, “Thanks.”

Molly waved her wand again, and the spoon retreated from the oven so that the door could shut again. She grabbed a tea towel from the back of a chair, and summoned over a freshly-washed pan, before meandering over to Harry’s side almost cautiously. Harry took one glance at the troubled look on her face and instantly knew what was coming. “I do hope Severus is treating you well?” she asked in a hushed voice.

“Actually, yeah,” said Harry. “Things aren’t exactly friendly, but he mostly just keeps to himself.”

“He really ought to show you more courtesy. I know that it was life or death for him but I don’t think he realises how lucky he is that you were willing.”

“Well... I suppose I’m the issue really, aren’t I? It’s bad luck for him he didn’t have a friend who could do it.”

“Oh, Harry. I mean he’s lucky it’s someone as _kind_ as you. People have used these sorts of bonds as leverage for all manner of dreadful behaviour.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably at the praise, and the implication of her words. “Thanks, Molly, but... he’s all right. Really, he is. I’m sure he’s... doing his best under the circumstances.”

Molly tutted slightly, but gave a nod to confirm she’d give the subject a rest for now.

They had intended to eat out in the garden, but at around half-past five it began to rain, and did not let up. Harry, Hermione and Teddy were seated next to each other at the table when Ginny walked in about twenty minutes later, broomstick in hand and her hair very wet and windswept. She pushed up her goggles, which had left two marks around her eyes where the rest of her face was dirty and water-streaked.

“Really, Ginny!” her mother fussed, about to peck her on the cheek before thinking better of it. “Just look at the state of you.”

“Find me a brush and I’ll smarten myself up a bit,” said Ginny, giving everyone sitting down a little wave. “Think I flew over a factory or something. Yuck.”

Bill, Fleur and little Victoire arrived then by Floo; Fleur immediately casting a cleaning spell over the three of them to remove the soot. Victoire ran into Molly’s awaiting arms and the two began chatting away about the former’s week. Bill hugged his father and pressed a bottle of wine into his hands.

Fleur bent down to kiss Harry and Teddy’s cheeks, and Harry noticed his godson didn’t wipe the kisses away as he usually did. She then looked up and caught sight of Ginny, before giving her robes a clean too with a flick of her wand.

“Wha- oh, cheers, Fleur,” said Ginny.

“You’re welcome,” said Fleur as she was about to risk kissing her, but Molly got there first as she began attacking Ginny’s face with a damp cloth.

“Bleurgh!”

Undeterred, Fleur swooped in on a rather flustered Hermione instead.

George and Ron arrived last, having had to close up the shop after an inevitably busy Saturday.

When everyone else was finally seated, Molly and Arthur brought all the food over. Teddy and Victoire were served first, much to the visible frustration of Ron, but soon enough everyone was tucking in to their dinner.

Harry had missed there being lots of people around. After he’d renovated most of Grimmauld Place there had been a two-year period where most of his friends had lived there with him at one time or another. For one thing, the Burrow still hadn’t been completed, and for another, it had just made sense. George had needed accommodation as the shop and flat above it had suffered a lot of damage during his and Fred’s time in hiding. When Ron decided to join his brother in running the shop, he’d wanted to keep an eye on George, as Fred’s absence would be keenly felt by all of them, but particularly his twin. Hermione had chosen to remain with her parents for a while, probably to make up for the lost time during the war and any hurt feelings, but she’d still stay round now and again. Molly and Arthur had occasionally spent the night to ‘help Harry with furnishings’, although he suspected it had been more because they were worried about George... and him. Even Ginny, after a solid year since her and Harry called it quits on getting back together, had accepted the offer of a room at Grimmauld Place while she job hunted and figured out what she really wanted to do.

Harry had loved every minute of it. But time marched on. George’s flat was repaired and he moved back in after six months at Grimmauld Place, probably wanting a bit of privacy now that he was dating Angelina Johnson. Ron basically still went back and forth between staying at Hermione’s parents, Harry’s, George’s flat and the Burrow, depending on where was more convenient. He’d certainly been visiting Grimmauld Place fewer times since Harry married Severus, but he occasionally came by at the weekend to spend time with Harry and Teddy, and was usually willing to meet up elsewhere. And finally, Ginny had been drafted in as Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, and had selected to move closer to their base. She had also been photographed on the arm of an unknown man the previous year, and so that possibly had something to do with it as well.

Halfway through the meal, Harry noticed that Ron and Hermione seemed rather distracted. They kept whispering to each other, and he saw Ron shrug and give her a questioning look. They _would_ be moving back into his house in September, while he and Severus were away at Hogwarts. For a moment he worried that there might be something wrong, but observed that they didn’t seem angry or upset with each other.

He continued to fret over what might be going on, until he got his answer when everyone finished their main course, and the pair of them stood up unnaturally fast to help stack the plates.

“Erm, sorry, just to get everyone’s attention before we have pudding,” said Hermione, standing behind Percy at one end of the table. “We were sort of planning to do a more official dinner, but as we don’t know when everyone’s going to be together again...” She looked at Ron, and he nodded. “Ron and I are getting married.”

“Oh!” cried Molly, bringing her hands to her face as her eyes filled with tears.

The entire table exploded with noise.

“Congratulations guys!”

_“Finally!”_

“Wonderful! Just wonderful, oh, I’m so pleased!”

“You kept that bloody quiet!”

“Details, please!”

“Excellent!”

“Ah, c’est fantastique!”

“Not _another_ wedding!” That was Teddy.

Ron put his arm around a beaming Hermione, also grinning stupidly.

Harry was overjoyed. In all the years he’d known his best friends, he’d recognised the pull they felt towards each other, even when they’d been too young to understand what it was. He loved them both so much.

Ron held up a hand. “I know you’ve all been wondering why it’s taken us a while. I mean, even _Harry_ got married before us. To Snape.”

A few laughs broke out, but Hermione elbowed Ron, nodding subtly at Teddy. Everyone took turns getting up and hugging the two of them, until the children were bored out of their minds and wanting dessert.

Molly was sniffling happily as she tried to distract herself by serving the treacle pudding. She was no doubt _much_ happier about Hermione and Ron living together at Grimmauld Place while Harry and Severus were away now. Harry wondered if he should start thinking about selling it again once Ron and Hermione found their own place. Unless any more of his friends needed somewhere to stay he’d hold off, but it wasn’t as though Severus and him would ever be expecting the pitter-patter of tiny feet.

Teddy had moved to sit beside Victoire and argue over their favourite dragons, so Ron sat down next to Harry and nudged his shoulder. “How’s that going, mate; with Snape?” he asked.

Harry pressed his mouth into a grim smile. His marriage seemed to be a constant source of anxiety not only to him, but all his friends. He didn’t really mind them asking, but he hoped they didn’t lose too much sleep over it. “All right,” he replied.

Ron looked at him in disbelief. “All right?”

“He’s been quite civil.”

“ _Really_?”

“Well, he’d still obviously rather be dead.”

“Well, obviously _not_ , Harry,” said Hermione.

Harry nodded. “Okay, obviously not.”

“Talking about Snape?” asked George, plonking down into the chair at Harry’s other side.

“I still can’t believe this is your life now,” Ron said to Harry, shaking his head.

“Ah, come on, Ronald,” said George. “If I can look old Sev in the eye, so can you.”

“I _can_ look him in the eye! Mind you, I don’t know how _you_ can after what he did to you.”

“It was no big deal.”

Harry winced and said, “He took your _ear_ off.”

“Well, yeah.” George shrugged. “But he apologised.”

“ – He did? When?”

“The first time I came round after he married Harry. He said I was a predictable flier and he didn’t understand how I lasted as Beater for so long. But I could sense the remorse underneath it all.”

Harry sighed.

“What a prick,” said Ron.

“Who’s a prick?” asked Ginny.

Ron rolled his eyes. “Who do you think?”

“Oh, the one right in front of me?”

“Oi!”

Ginny caught Harry’s eye. “Ah,” she said. “Want me to give him a hex from your ex?”

Harry smiled softly at her. “I’m fine, but thanks,” he said, and turned to Ron and Hermione. “Anyway, we should be talking about _you two_.” He grabbed up his glass and narrowed his eyes at them. “Gave me a right scare, with all your whispering. I thought you were going to tell us you’d broken up or something.”

“What a thing that would have been,” said George, and mimed tapping Harry’s wine glass. “Attention, everyone! Just to let you know, we hate each other and won’t be getting married, ever.”

“Do your parents know, Hermione?” asked Ginny.

“We’ll tell them when they’re back from Spain,” replied Hermione, starting to blush. “But I think they sort of guessed it was coming.”

“Well I for one think it’s brilliant news,” said George, picking up a random glass and holding it aloft to Hermione. “You shall be the sister we never had!”

“Prat,” said Ginny.

The evening continued in a blur of laughter and candlelight. At the end of the meal, they all gave Ron and Hermione a proper toast, and then George and Bill took over the washing up. Afterwards, everyone milled about, chatting and drinking.

It was half-past nine when Harry bid everyone goodbye. He felt a bit guilty for having pushed it so late with Teddy, but at least he’d had a good time. There was a bit of an age gap between him and Victoire, and so their patience with each other was tenuous, but they’d managed a few games of tag without any upsets, and Teddy had let her have a few goes on the toy broomstick once it had stopped raining. They’d ended up falling asleep together in the big armchair with a blanket over them. Harry and Bill gently prised the two apart, and Harry lifted Teddy into his arms before heading to the fireplace. He took the time to say ‘Grimmauld Place’ carefully, because he’d had quite a reasonable amount of wine, and arrived in one piece back in his kitchen.

“ – Here we are, Teds,” Harry murmured, still cradling the little boy in his arms, and clutching the toy broomstick in one hand. “Off to bed- Oh!”

Severus was standing by the kitchen sink, watching them blankly.

“Hello,” said Harry rather blearily, placing the toy broomstick on the table. “You’re back early.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Indeed,” he said silkily. “ _You_ are not.”

Teddy, it seemed, was not quite as deep asleep as he’d looked, because he tensed slightly in Harry’s arms at the sound of Severus’s voice. The child was starting to feel a bit like a lead weight, so Harry hoisted him up a bit. “We were at the Weasleys for dinner.”

Severus just gave him a look that could have meant anything from, “obviously” to, “I don’t care.”  
  


When it was clear the man wasn’t going to say anything let alone explain his early appearance, Harry hauled Teddy up again and walked towards the door. “Well, I’d better get Teds to bed. Good night, Severus.” He left so quickly that it didn’t really give Severus much time to respond, but Harry knew he wouldn’t anyway. His husband seemed to be in one of his moods.

As he passed through the doorway and headed up the stairs, he felt Teddy shift in his arms again, and knew he was trying to catch a glimpse of Severus over Harry’s shoulder. He wondered if his godson was successful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so grateful to everyone still reading. Thank you for your lovely comments, I'm really enjoying writing this fic. Apologies that we didn't see much of Snape <3


	4. A Day of Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Teddy relax and have fun after a late night. Severus has something to say to Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet again thank you so much for all the responses! Hope this delivers <3

  
Harry was dusting some of Aunt Petunia’s best china. It was a tiresome, monotonous job that involved removing all the gilt-edged tableware from the dreaded windowed cabinet in the dining room; cleaning all of the shelves, polishing each pane of glass, and then finally dealing with each piece of china by hand with the spray and a yellow duster. But he’d nearly finished; everything was sparkling and neatly positioned, just as his aunt liked it.

Suddenly, the plate Harry was cleaning was jerked out of his hands, and he looked up to see Dudley grinning at him manically. Harry knew what he was about to do, and he shook his head desperately, but Dudley simply raised the plate above their heads, before smashing it violently on the floor. Harry shouted in alarm, staring in horror at the pieces scattered everywhere. He begged Dudley to stop, but his cousin was still just laughing at him, grabbing more precious dishes and jugs from his mother’s cabinet and throwing them to the floor. Somewhere around them, Aunt Petunia was shrieking, and Dudley’s face screwed up in tears as he pointed at Harry crying, “He threw a plate at me, Mummy! He’s mad!” And then there were loud, pounding footsteps, and the door to the dining room rattled. Harry stood there trembling amongst the sea of ceramic shards, when Uncle Vernon came bursting in, and he tried to explain; to cry, but no words would come out. His uncle seized him by the hair, shaking him and bellowing in his face.

Harry jolted awake. He was panting, and shivering in a cold sweat. He heard a car pass in the street outside, and he watched the light moving along with it from behind the curtains, before disappearing into darkness once more. He took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, trying to calm himself.

He’d been having nightmares about his early childhood more frequently in recent years. It seemed a strange thing for his unconscious mind to hone in on, when he’d been through so much worse since then. Voldemort had made the Dursleys look trivial; almost absurd in their pathetic, spiteful, mundane lives. They could never hurt him now, and besides – he’d left them behind. They were happy to be free of him at last, and the feeling was absolutely mutual. Dudley _had_ sent a Christmas card last year, clumsily addressed with Harry’s full name and the address of Grimmauld Place, which he’d left with the Dursleys in case of emergencies. Harry imagined it was tossed into the bin by his aunt or uncle straight away, but if it had been, Dudley must have fished it out.

The card had obviously been posted in the Muggle mail, but when the Wizarding Postal-Service got wind of it they dragged Harry in because they were concerned it might be an attempt on his life from ‘dark wizards’. The whole thing had been a bit overblown and rather tedious as Muggles frequently sent mail to their Wizarding friends and relatives and it was usually no cause for alarm, but Harry had enjoyed the sight of the postal team prodding and poking the little red square with the Queen’s profile on it, and demanding her to reveal any secrets she might be hiding.

When it was all over, Harry owled back his own card to Dudley, hoping it wouldn’t spark any upset as his cousin was now living away from his parents, and in a few short sentences explained a bit about what he’d been doing, and enquired after Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon out of politeness. He had to admit it was rather amazing how far his cousin had come in a few short years, and he really did hope things would only continue to improve for him.

Feeling a headache coming on, Harry got up to use the shower quickly and get some water, being extra quiet so as not to wake Teddy, and then changed into a fresh pair of pyjamas and went back to bed for some more, mercifully dreamless, sleep.

He was awoken again about three hours later by Teddy clambering into bed with him and looking very much like a little boy who had gone to bed too late. They dozed together for a little while longer, before Harry forced himself up to go and clean his teeth and get breakfast ready.

Severus was sitting at the kitchen table reading the _Sunday Prophet_. Harry had forgotten he was back.

“Morning,” he said as he went to the fridge. “Do you want some breakfast?”

“It’s nearly ten o’clock,” said Severus without looking up from the paper.

“Yes, but it’s _Sunday_ , darling.”

Severus straightened out the paper with a single, sharp movement. “I have already eaten.”

“Fine. Coffee?”

“Very good.”

Harry put the kettle on, and then removed the toy broomstick from the table and leant it against the back door. He put together some toast, eggs, sausages and bacon, and poured out some orange juice. The smell quickly worked in luring Teddy down but he lingered in the doorway to gape at Severus. Severus noticed almost immediately, and lowered the paper to eye the child. Teddy, to his credit, held the stare, but shifted on the spot uncomfortably.

“Food’s up, Teddy,” said Harry, as he put a mug of steaming black coffee in front of Severus.

They ate together in a kind of sleepy half-silence, unbothered even by Severus’s disapproving air after a while. Teddy managed to get a dollop of tomato ketchup down his front, his legs swinging happily under the table as his belly filled up, and he started to look a bit less peaky.

Harry sipped his coffee, and was pleased when Severus removed one hand from the paper to do so, too. He looked over at the sun streaming in through the window and listened the birds chirping, and nudged Teddy gently with his foot. “We should go for a walk,” he said.

Teddy heaved a dramatic sigh. “But I don’t want to,” he said sadly.

Harry laughed. “Well, we’re going in the garden for a bit, then.”

“Hmpf.”

Once he was dressed, Teddy was actually rather pleased to run around on the grass. He and Harry played a sort of mash-up of football and Quidditch until it got too hot, and then Harry got them some more cold orange juice. They sat together in the sun, sipping their juice contentedly. The garden was the last part of the house that Harry hadn’t altered drastically. He kept the lawn mown and weeded, and purchased a nice table and some chairs for the cracked, mossy patio, but it basically had the exact same layout as when he’d first visited.

“I wish I had a real broom,” Teddy lamented.

“I know,” said Harry, reaching to stroke his hair. “Bit of wait ahead of you, I’m afraid.”

“Maybe in _three_ _years_ , Grandma said.”

“Five years, mate. She said five.”

“I want to get really good one so I can play Quidditch at school.”

“Well, Hogwarts doesn’t let first years have their own brooms anyway.”

_“What?”_

“Yep. You’ll have a year of flying lessons before you can try out for your house team.”

“That’s not fair!”

Harry opened his mouth, but then closed it again. He didn’t really know whether he should argue or agree, since Professor McGonagall had not only bent the rules for _him_ , but also bought him the fastest model of broomstick at the time. In retrospect, it had been pretty unfair to all the other first years that might have wanted to do try outs, but it had also made him feel highly appreciated. It was like when Hagrid had given him Hedwig; it was the kindest thing anyone had ever done for him, and with Minerva it had been more than a gift, but also an acknowledgment of a real skill. She had always seemed to understand that his circumstances at home were rather unhappy, too, but to what extent he couldn’t say.

“You’ll still be able to play with your friends,” he settled for saying instead. “And when you’re big enough we’ll do a bit of practice on mine, yeah?”

Teddy pouted, and then smiled. “Yeah,” he said softly.

Harry was struck for a moment by how much Teddy resembled Remus. It was just from this angle, and seeing his side profile, as the little boy had always more strongly resembled Tonks, but now it was unmistakable.

“What is it?” said Teddy, noticing Harry staring.

“You’re starting to look like your dad.”

That made Teddy smile even wider. “Grandma gave me a picture of him and Mum.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, I keep it next to my bed at her house. I have one of Grandpa, too.”

“That’s nice.”

Harry hadn’t been there when Teddy learned about what had happened to his parents. Andromeda told him that the other children in Teddy’s class had been discussing their families for a project, and Teddy had come home in a bit of a strange mood. He already knew that Remus and Tonks were dead, but ‘dead’ and ‘died’ were just words to him back then; a sort of explanation for their absence without any real meaning. Andromeda chose that moment to sit him down and talk a bit about the war, about his parents, and about death.

Apparently Teddy had been very upset for the rest of the day, but Andromeda had waited patiently for him to cry and shout it out until he calmed down. She’d talked it through with him, and later with Harry so that he knew where Teddy was at in terms of digesting the information. Harry trusted her instincts on the matter. She’d lost so many people in her life, including the rejection of her own immediate family, which she confessed had really began before she even met Ted. Like Sirius, she hadn’t been ‘Slytherin’ enough, despite the fact she’d managed to get sorted into the ‘right’ house. She was a remarkably resilient woman.

Harry remembered Aunt Petunia brushing any and all questions off about his parents, but he couldn’t actually recall the exact moment when she told him in basic terms what had happened to them. And of course, she’d lied to him anyway. At least Teddy had known the truth from the off. Both Harry and Andromeda were determined that Teddy would have a better start in life than either of them had had, but Harry couldn’t help but feel anxious that he might fail him somehow.

The two of them retired to the sitting room at about three o’clock, and they watched a bit of TV together. At five, Harry put a video on for Teddy and went to make dinner. Severus had vanished somewhere at around eleven o’clock and hadn’t reappeared since, which was no surprise, but as usual when he was home Harry made enough food in case he wanted it.

After dinner, Harry gave Teddy a bath, and then got him ready for bed. Despite Teddy’s protests, his late bedtime the day before was beginning to show on his face again, as he was yawning and getting rather grumpy. He was passed out before Harry was even on the third page of _Cinderella_. Harry kissed his brow, tucked him in, and enchanted a little ball of dull light to hover in the corner in case Teddy woke up.

He returned downstairs to the front room, and for the third time in twenty-four hours was startled to find Severus in front of him. The man was holding a glass of something in his outstretched hand; a clear invitation.

“Oh,” said Harry, accepting the drink. “Thank you.”

Severus sat down on the red armchair between the brown leather sofa and the television, in a manner that suggested that if they had still been teacher and student, he’d have said, “Sit.”

A few papers with Severus’s handwriting lay piled on the coffee table, along with a half-empty bottle of white wine, and his own glass, which he summoned into his hand.

Harry took a seat on the leather sofa, and frowned when he discovered he’d sat on Teddy’s cardigan. He removed it and threw it onto the other, cream-coloured fabric sofa that was positioned opposite Severus and lay perpendicular to the leather one.

Severus’s dark eyes followed his movements. “The child stares at me,” he said icily.

“Yeah, I noticed that,” said Harry, taking an approving sip of the wine.

“Haven’t you taught him that it is rude to do so?”

“He does know that... I think he’s just shy of you.” Severus didn’t look impressed. “He’s trying to figure you out, I suppose.”

“A late night certainly makes him bolder.”  
  


Harry grinned. “We got a bit carried away at the Burrow. Ron and Hermione are engaged.”

  
Severus looked bored. “I assumed they had been for some time?”

“No.”

“And no doubt we’ll be teaching some _delightful_ progeny of theirs in just a few years?”

  
“I hope so.”

Severus took a sip of wine. “I spoke to Minerva today.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“She has suggested we arrive at the school a day in advance in order to... settle in.”

Harry nodded. “That sounds good. How is she?”

“Well.”

“...Good.”

“You know Minerva. She’s not one to waste time on pleasantries.”

“I suppose not.” Harry took another mouthful and swallowed, licking his lips. He pointed to the papers. “Are those the notes for your class?”

“For one of them.”

“Do you mind if I take a look?”

Severus eyed him for a good long while, and right at the point when Harry thought he was going to tell him to go to hell, he said, “Of course.”

Harry edged forwards and picked up the pile carefully. At the top, in familiar, spidery handwriting, was written, ‘First Year Syllabus: An Introduction to the Dark Arts.’ Harry pored over it in fascination. First Year seemed a long time ago, and he could barely remember Quirrel’s strained, nervous teachings.

“Well?” said Severus after a few minutes. “Does it meet the Saviour’s standards?”

“I’m just interested. We never really had a consistent program.”

“Certainly some inconsistent tutors.”

“That’s true. Remus was good. Even Barty Crouch Jr. was interesting when he wasn’t terrifying.”

“And the rest were all just a waste of your precious time, were they, Potter?”

“I was getting to you.”

“Of course you were.”

“You were... also interesting.”

“Well, how generous.”

“It is, actually.” Harry smirked at Severus, who simply pinned him with his usual, cold stare.

“You had no desire to try out for the subject?” asked Severus after a moment.

“As teacher?” Harry shrugged. “Not really.”

He would always be interested in Defence, but for now he’d seen enough of the Dark Arts. Also, the idea of stepping foot back inside the office that had once belonged to Umbridge freaked him out. She, above all the others, had tainted the subject for him.

“Perhaps on occasion you can join me for some demonstrations?” Severus suggested.

Harry looked up at him in surprise, and then laughed. “After what you did to Lockhart?” he said knowingly. “I’m not so sure about that.”

Severus’s upper lip twitched. “Another teaching disaster.”

“That’s true. God, he was awful.”

“I would have thought you’d have gotten along _famously_ together.”

“Now that’s a step too far, Severus.”

Harry finished leafing through the notes, and then tidily piled them back on the coffee table. At first he wasn’t sure of Minerva’s decision to put Severus in charge of Defence, but apparently he’d made a good job of it before he was cursed. And Harry _had_ thought that Slughorn made a cheerful contrast to the gloomy dungeons, where Severus had just added to the cold atmosphere. As Harry’s Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, his now-husband had been as intimidating as ever, but Harry supposed that at least he was now teaching the subject of his passion, and without being undercover this time. Also, he didn’t have to teach _him_ anymore, which was bound to be a step up for everyone involved.

Severus was still watching him intently. There was something odd about the way he was looking at him, but Harry wasn’t sure he could place it.

Harry found himself blushing under the scrutiny, and smiled. “It looks good,” he said. “It’s more what I imagined Defence would be like when we first started.”

“I’m glad it meets with your approval.” They sat in the quiet for a while, sipping their drinks and both requiring a refill before Severus spoke again. “Your own class looks to be quite the experiment.” He jerked his head in the direction of Harry’s writing desk. “You left your notes out, I assumed it was all right to take a look?”

“ – Yes, yes that’s fine.” All of a sudden Harry felt rather young and unsophisticated. He stared down into his glass as he rambled on. “It _is_ experimental. And all open to adjustments depending on how it goes. I know I’m not going to change the world in a year.”  
  


“You already have.”

Harry looked up at him. They didn’t talk about the war very often, much less their own actions during its course. “Not just me,” he said eventually.

There was something different between them tonight. He thought he might know what it was, but he couldn’t confirm it. He wasn’t experienced enough. He knew he should put a stop to things before he embarrassed himself. He put his glass down on the coffee table and stood up.

So did Severus.

Harry hesitated, glancing over his shoulder towards the door and about to make some excuse to go to bed early, when Severus stepped forward, crowding him so that if he moved back he’d be forced to sit down again. Harry’s heart beat furiously underneath his ribcage as he blinked up at those intense, dark eyes. He knew the connotations of the position they were in, but he still couldn’t guess if it held any truth. He couldn’t predict these sorts of things. He didn’t dare. He waited to see what Severus would do.

“I think I would like,” said Severus in a low voice, “to thank you for what you did.” Harry distantly wondered if he was talking about the bond or the war or something else. Severus leant down, bringing his head to the side of Harry’s, and Harry heard him inhale softly before he pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek, and murmured, “If it is welcome, of course.”

Harry opened his mouth to say something; all manner of questions coming to mind. What are we doing? What does this mean? Do you _really_ want it?

Instead he said breathlessly, “ – Teddy’s upstairs.”

“He isn’t out of bed. I have become acquired to listening out for that sort of thing.”

“Yeah, I know,” whispered Harry, and tilted his chin up.

Severus accepted the invitation by placing a large hand on Harry’s back, and claiming his mouth in a firm kiss. Harry thought his heart might explode it was beating so fast, and he clung to the other man for a bit of stability. Severus held him tightly, pushing the matter further with a swish of his tongue against Harry’s lips. Harry allowed him entry, and for a few moments they remained locked together, kissing languidly.

Finally, after a minute – or even five – Severus released him; a gentle hand upon his arm, and then he was handing Harry back his drink as though they’d returned from a dance or something.

  
“Thanks,” said Harry, blood still thrumming in his eardrums.

Severus nodded, his signature expression of indifference snapping back into place before Harry’s very eyes, and for some reason that was as reassuring as it was frustrating. But there was an air of shock, he noted, in the way the man ran a hand through his lank hair and glanced away.

He was about to try and say something; anything, when Severus gave him a peck on the cheek, bidding him goodnight before sweeping out of the room.

It was a full ten minutes before Harry was able to move his legs.


	5. The Door at the End of the Hall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry nervously waits for Severus to appear, and pays Ron a short visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, a giant thank you to all my readers. I've had some of the loveliest comments on this piece and I just wanted to say how much I appreciate them. Thank you!! <3

Severus’s bedroom was located at the end of the first floor corridor, which separated it and one of the bathrooms from the sitting room. He’d had plenty to choose from, including two of the grander bedrooms on the third floor, but he hadn’t even let Harry show them to him before he’d made his choice. Harry imagined the man had seen it as some kind of a statement; a sort of ‘I don’t need your over-entitled charity, Potter,’ type of thing. In a way, it was a relief. Harry wasn’t sure whether, under the circumstances, he should have offered him the master bedroom on the second floor, which _he_ had ended up settling in because Teddy preferred the only other bedroom on that floor and he didn’t like to be far away from Harry. But Severus had spared him the awkwardness of suggesting it by marching straight into the first room he was shown and saying, “This will do.” And that also eliminated another of Harry’s concerns. For all his determination that he would remain civil and mature in this matter, he knew he would have found it difficult if Severus had ended up choosing Sirius’s old bedroom.

Not that Severus’s room was small. Grimmauld Place had obviously been built to impress. It was spacious enough for a double bed, a wardrobe, chest of drawers, a desk and a small fireplace. The large window overlooked the garden and let in a lot of light during the day, and it didn’t need any charms around it to make it quiet and peaceful. It was referred to as his ‘study’ whenever Teddy was around, but Harry didn’t think a five year old would question the fact that they didn’t sleep together anyway.

It was the first bedroom Harry had redecorated, and he personally thought Severus had made a good choice. He hadn't told him that. He had a funny feeling that if he had, Severus would have immediately changed his mind and moved to a different room. Harry hadn’t stepped foot inside there since Severus moved in, and without an invitation, he wouldn’t. Sometimes he’d knock on the door to offer food or some news, and Severus would usually just answer from the other side. Generally, Harry liked to keep a respectful distance. He still vividly remembered the disaster with the Pensieve, and he did not want a repeat of it.

Today, however, the very idea of going near Severus's door as he went into the front room or upstairs to his own bedroom was making him extremely nervous. It was fine when he’d taken Teddy down for breakfast, but now Andromeda had been to collect him, and the house was eerily quiet. He was hardly going to start apparating about in his own home; that would look really weird if Severus overheard him. But he would have to go upstairs at some point, and then what? Would Severus come out? Would he explain his actions last night? Or would he expect Harry to come to him – and if Harry didn’t, would he take it as a rejection?

But then, what if Severus _didn’t_ want him; if last night had been just a kiss and nothing more? In that case – would Severus wish to make that clear, or would he expect Harry to understand and say nothing more about it? But then _why_ had he kissed him in the first place? Harry hadn’t known that was on the cards – if it meant anything. _Did_ it mean anything?

And if it did mean anything... what if it wasn’t what Harry wanted to hear?

What if this was about his mother?

Andromeda had clearly noticed something was off when Harry had answered the door, and he’d tried to distract her with the news of Ron and Hermione’s engagement. She’d had to get away to meet a friend, but the look in her eyes told Harry that she wasn’t entirely convinced.

He didn’t know what to do. After saying goodbye to Teddy and Andromeda, he’d gone back downstairs to the kitchen and hadn’t been up since. He was apprehensive at the idea of being alone with Severus, but at the same time he hoped the man wouldn’t avoid him now.

Oh, _hell_ , Harry thought desperately. Maybe Severus had gone back to his own house, and he wouldn’t have any clue about what had happened for another week? There had been no sign of the git all morning, and it would be just like him; to kiss Harry and then leave him to deal with it without answers. Except it _wasn't_ like him to kiss Harry at all.

Harry deliberately wasted some time by scrubbing the washing up by hand, and then he summoned his notes from the lounge so he could do some work without having to go upstairs. “You _coward_ ,” he whispered, as he irritably crossed out a sentence that had been annoying him for three days and tried to think of how to rephrase it.

It wasn’t like he didn’t know he held a weird attraction to Severus. It was one of the more surprising developments of recent years; more so than even getting married to the man. Until last night, he’d been able to kid himself that it was just his reluctant admiration for him, borne out of their difficult yet intense relationship. Perhaps Severus knew about it? Harry had never followed up on the Occlumency lessons with him or anyone else, and sexual attraction was probably one of the more blatant emotions.

For the first time in a while, Harry wished that he’d tried dating before. It hadn’t been a priority in the last few years, what with the aftermath of the war, getting his education back on track and discovering what he actually wanted to do. Also, the discovery of his attraction to men, whilst not a complete shock, had only made him more cautious. His love life had attracted enough speculation while he was trying to understand girls, and he didn’t need any media speculation to ‘help’ with this new development. And then there was the unpleasant idea that people would only want to go out with him because he was Harry Potter. He wasn’t interested in spending time on romance for the wrong reasons... but at least by now he might have some sort of idea of what this was all about.

He wondered if he should speak to someone, but who? Was it appropriate to talk about your romantic or sexual life with your friends? Ron and Hermione didn’t discuss theirs with him, and he was privately relieved as the notion made him rather uneasy – perhaps because he was so close with both of them. In a lot of Muggle television shows people did it; particularly women. But maybe that was an exaggeration, and if not, what if it was different in the Wizarding World? He remembered Ron’s scandalised face when Hermione had been dragged by Rita Skeeter in the _Prophet_. Although that had been when there were fourteen.

Harry looked down and realised he’d left a massive inkblot across the parchment.

Lunchtime came and went. Harry finished up his notes, and then went out to do a food shop. When he returned, he leisurely unpacked everything from the depths of his enchanted bag, and even cleaned the kitchen. At two o’clock, he gave in on waiting around and Floo’d into the rather stuffy little office at _Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes_ and poked his head around the door.

The place wasn’t exactly heaving, but there was a lot of activity, and a _lot_ of children rushing about. Harry was about to turn back, when he heard Ron call out his name. He looked up, and spotted his friend on the landing above, refilling a drawer of something powdery.

“I can come back later,” Harry called up to him, as he awkwardly weaved his way around a couple of groups to stand at the bottom of the stairs.

“No, you can’t,” said Ron loudly, and then shouted down over the railings in the direction of the tills. “George! I’m taking my twenty minutes!”

Ron stood and made his way down with a couple of heavy-looking sacks wedged under one arm. He waved in the direction of the office door and they both made their way back there. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said when the door shut, cutting off all the hubbub from the shop floor. “Driving me mental.”

“The kids?”

“And George.” Ron dumped his sacks down on the shabby little desk and waved his wand at the corner of the room, where the tiny kitchenette was. The single gas ring on the small hob burst into life beneath the copper kettle, as a cabinet door opened and two mugs and a tin of tea flew out and plonked down rather aggressively on the countertop. “I’d say _they_ rile _him_ up, but I think it’s about even standing.”

Harry dragged over the tall wooden stool and hopped up into it, as Ron collapsed into the armchair behind the desk. Over on the counter, the tin opened, and a teaspoon emerged from a drawer and began spooning tealeaves into the yellow teapot.

“You all right?” asked Ron, when he’d taken a moment.

“Oh, yeah,” said Harry casually. “Just psyching myself up for the move.”

“Bloody hell, yeah. I can’t believe you’ll be sharing with the git.”

Harry didn’t answer. The kettle began hissing gently.

“’Mione said Malfoy came round the other day?” said Ron after another pause.

Harry nodded. “To check I was treating Severus all right.”

“Well that’s a bloody cheek – after all the years the pair of them spent making our lives hell!”

“I know. Maybe he thinks I’ll take my revenge now.”

“Wouldn’t blame you.”

No, thought Harry. He definitely couldn’t speak to Ron about the kiss with Severus. He stretched out his legs and yawned. “So, you and Hermione, eh?”

Ron immediately softened. “Yeah,” he said with a dopey grin on his face.

The kettle began whistling, but it quickly stopped as it lifted itself off the hob and poured boiling water into the teapot.

“I’m so happy for you,” said Harry, smiling.

“Thanks, mate.”

“Do you think you’ll have a big bash, then?”

“We probably should. Although that means we’ll have to invite all the extended family. If you’re going to have a big wedding I reckon you do it just so you can _not_ invite all the annoying people just to prove a point, but Mum and Dad wouldn’t agree.”

Harry chuckled, and saw their mugs of steaming tea floating over to them, and they both took them gratefully. Harry blew on his for a few moments before taking a tentative sip. “You could tell the annoying people about Hermione’s other Muggle relatives?” he suggested. “Maybe if there can’t be any magic performed they won’t want to come?”

Ron shook his head, cradling his own tea in his hands. “She doesn’t have all that many left living. That’s why she didn’t have much of a job to do when she went into hiding. I mean – of course it was difficult for her... but there weren’t all that many minds that needed Obliviating, you know? There’s an uncle and a great aunt or two, but we’re not sure what we’ll do yet.”

“You’ll have a job keeping the press out of it.”

“I’m surprised no one’s let it slip yet.”

“Don’t rush things. You know it’s coming.”

“Bloody Skeeter. She’ll be a pain in the arse until we release a statement.”

“Give it to _The Quibbler_. That’s what I always do.”

“Good shout. Have you heard from Mr Lovegood recently?”

“Not since the last article. He seemed fine though – and Luna’s always in good spirits.”

Ron snorted, but when he spoke his tone was affectionate. “Wouldn’t have thought she knows any other spirits. Well – _emotional_ spirits.”

They chatted together for the rest of Ron’s break, and possibly went a little over time until a loud bang resounded somewhere from the shop floor. They quickly bid each other goodbye, and Ron rushed out of the door while Harry returned home.

He was still frustrated about Severus, and that he hadn’t shared his worries with Ron, but he felt calmer. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust him, but he knew his friend simply wouldn’t understand. If he found out that Severus kissed Harry he’d probably arrive at Grimmauld Place ready to hex the man into oblivion. If he found out that Harry hadn’t minded the kiss, he’d probably frogmarch _him_ straight to St Mungo’s... and then go to hex Severus.

Harry supposed that Hermione would probably be the best person to talk things through with, as she usually was, but he knew that she would prompt him into action; to ask Severus outright what was going on, and he sort of already knew that would be the most logical thing to do. Whether it would be sensible was quite another. Anyone else in the world might agree that Harry was entitled to answers, but this was Severus Snape, and he was always an exception where Harry was concerned.

When dinnertime came around, there was still no sign of the man. Harry forced himself up the two flights of stairs and along the hall to Severus’s bedroom. He knocked on the door, schooling his expression and body language into what he hoped looked completely natural. “Severus?” he called softly through the door. “Would you like some dinner?” He knocked again, but there was no response.

He was out, then.

Harry released the breath he’d been holding. He wasn’t all that surprised, but in the wake of all the anticipation he felt somewhat deflated. If Severus kept away for a while, his mind would get no rest until he saw him again and could ascertain if last night had meant anything at all to him.

He ate his dinner alone in front of the television, and when everything was washed up and the sky finally growing dark, he debated staying up to wait for his husband. Eventually, he decided against it. Severus was either not coming back any time soon, or he was trying to avoid him today. He trudged up the stairs to his bedroom and lay down in the quiet, warm darkness. He wondered if he should feel angry, but he was just too confused.

When he finally fell asleep, he dreamt that he was in the car with the Dursleys, winding their way through the dark countryside. Suddenly, they stopped, and the door opened as he was hauled out and placed on the pavement.

“Goodbye, boy,” said Uncle Vernon, chuckling darkly as he got back in the car and it sped away, leaving Harry in the pitch black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of Severus in this part :(


	6. A Trip Out Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry ends up with some surprising company on a trip to Diagon Alley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much yet again everyone! I'm pleased to report there's a lot more of Severus in this chapter <3

The next morning, Harry awoke early to find he’d kicked the sheets off himself at some point during the night. The sweaty temperature of the room, along with the second bout of nightmares within three days had put him in a rather bad mood. He wasn’t going to sit around waiting for Severus, he decided. Severus was the one who kissed him, and not the other way around, and if he was now regretting doing so, it wasn’t Harry’s problem.

Harry showered, shaved, dressed, made a vague effort with his hair, and retrieved his bag from the back of the door, ready to go straight to Diagon Alley. He didn’t usually like to eat out because of the inevitable staring, but the Leaky Cauldron had a few little nooks you could hide away in, and since he’d had his hair cut and kept over his scar, and stopped wearing his glasses in favour of a sight-correction spell, people tended to be a little slow on the uptake in recognising him these days. One day back in June, he’d even managed to walk around in public for several hours and not be indentified at all.

When his shoelaces were tied, Harry ran down to the first floor. As he crossed the landing, he felt his heart leap into his mouth when Severus’s door opened and the man himself finally appeared. Apparently he was back from sulking or whatever it was he’d been doing in the last few hours. “Harry,” he said, and the shock of it made Harry stop where he was.  
  


Severus rarely used his first name. It had been agreed that they couldn’t possibly continue referring to each other by their last names when they were married, but Severus almost deliberately would not use any name for him at all. He slipped up occasionally and called him “Potter” far more times than Harry accidentally called him “Snape”, much to Harry's amusement. His name sounded rather attractive on Severus’s tongue, he thought.

“Where are you going?” Severus asked, noticing Harry’s bag.

“Diagon Alley,” Harry replied shortly, annoyed at being taken aback.

“Good. I shall accompany you.”

Harry blinked. In all their months of marriage, they hadn’t once been out together. “I was... going to have breakfast at the Leaky Cauldron first,” he said, still trying to keep his tone sharp but failing at the last few words.

“Very good.” Severus went back inside his room, and then reappeared a moment later, attaching a small cloth bag to his belt. He swept towards Harry, who was still rooted to the spot, and marched passed him down the stairs as if it had been _his_ idea to go out in the first place. It took Harry a moment to gather himself together and follow him.

They Floo’d from the kitchen to the Leaky Cauldron, which was busy enough that the table full of people directly in front of the fireplace didn’t even spare them a glance. When they reached the bar, however, Harry saw the way old Tom’s eyes flashed and he took a deep intake of breath, ready to practically yell Harry’s name, but stopping himself at the last minute. Tom hurriedly finished serving the group of people in front, before he practically skidded to the end of the bar to greet them. “Mr Potter!” he said in a low, excitable voice. “So good to see you!”

“Cheers, Tom,” said Harry. “And... you know my husband, Severus.”

Tom’s eyes gleamed with excitement again, although this time it looked like something closer to intrigue than anything else. “Ah, yes! How are you, Professor Snape?”

“As ever, Tom,” replied Severus, although he managed a respectful little nod of the head.

For a moment Tom gazed to and fro between the pair of them, before seeming to remember himself and handing over some menus. Harry supposed that they probably seemed a bit of a novelty to most people, and nervously wondered if they should have made other public appearances before now. Someone like Tom was hardly going to outright question the validity of his and Severus’s feelings for each other, but that didn’t mean he was actually convinced of their existence.

Harry enquired after the business as they looked over the breakfast menu, and Tom happily updated him on the summer footfall and shared a little gossip about some of the more colourful guests they had hosted. When they ordered their food, Severus was already pressing some coins into Tom’s palm before Harry could get his wallet out. He huffed slightly in annoyance but held his tongue. He knew that the very idea of his paying for Severus made the man balk, but he couldn’t help wondering if this time it might be about the kiss; either as an apology for it or... No, Harry refused to even think about it, and discussing it in public would be a very bad idea.

He watched Severus as they made their way over to a quiet corner pointed out by Tom, mostly obscured from the rest of the pub by its position and a huge, oak post. Although Severus had forgone his robes, he was still wearing his usual black ensemble; including the waistcoat, and long-sleeved shirt tightly buttoned at the wrists even in the height of summer.

“What do you need in town?” Harry asked him as they took their seats opposite each other. He wondered if Severus was still annoyed by his asking questions. His husband didn’t much like having to answer to anyone for anything. Right now, Harry hoped it _did_ annoy him.

“I require some ingredients,” was the response.

Harry nodded. Severus still spent a lot of his time brewing up potions, and a large part of his Defence Against the Dark Arts course looked at both dangerous and defensive concoctions. Despite the fact he’d gladly accepted Defence over Potions, the latter subject truly seemed to be one of the few things Severus got pleasure out of.

Their food arrived promptly, and Harry tucked into his bacon sandwich, adding to a shopping list between mouthfuls. Severus ate about half of his eggs and toast in one sitting, before an article in the _Prophet_ distracted him. Harry was still mystified by his behaviour, but figured that at least Severus had returned after just one day. He glanced up at where the man’s face was obscured by the moving images on the paper, and tried to think of how he might approach this new issue between them later on, if Severus refused to do so himself.

Harry became aware of someone watching him, and adjusted his position so that he could guess the location of the culprit out of the corner of his eye. Whoever it was had almost certainly had to shuffle their chair and lean over a fair way in order to see them past the oak post. It was pretty rude, but as they had only just got out, Harry selected to not take any notice, returning his attention to his list. It would likely be his last trip to Diagon Alley before they left for Hogwarts, and so he wanted to remember everything.

A couple of minutes later, there was a small commotion, and Harry looked up to see a young woman had toppled out of her chair, and was scrambling to her feet, her face very red. That was when Harry realised that Severus had lowered the paper to glare right back at her. He lifted the shopping list to stifle a laugh.

After breakfast they went through the back to get to Diagon Alley. Severus needed to get some money out, and so they headed to Gringotts first. Harry accompanied Severus in one of the carts to his vault, but didn’t get out when he went to fetch the coins he required. Once they were back on the surface and outside, Severus turned to Harry, an almost challenging look in his eye. “I would like to visit Borgin and Burkes,” he said simply.

“Okay,” said Harry, not particularly keen on joining him there. “...Shall I meet you in the menagerie?”

Severus inclined his head stiffly, and moved off towards Knockturn Alley. Harry watched him go bemusedly, before going to have a look in the window of Potage’s Cauldron Shop. He’d always enjoyed seeing all the different coloured metals and styles of the equipment in there. He then wandered along the street, having a good look at each of the displays. He got stuck for a few minutes in front of Quality Quidditch Supplies, where they had a rather smart little travelling broom imbedded neatly in its leather case, and of course a gently hovering Firebolt with some rather beautiful, customised ironwork along its handle.

When he reached the Magical Menagerie he picked up some treats for Wilfrid, his barn owl, and was momentarily distracted by a litter of tabby kittens. They were incredibly endearing, and he gave a particularly friendly one a gentle scratch through the cage. He considered the idea of getting a cat for a moment, because getting a pet was the one thing he hadn’t managed so far. As fond as he was of Wilfrid, and as much as he’d adored Hedwig, owls did not tolerate a lot more than a good scratch and stroke before they started ruffling their feathers at you. With a smile he recalled the mistake he’d made trying to almost cuddle Hedwig for the first – and last – time. Magical birds were still only half-tame, and after all, they were working owls. He left the kittens to it, and just purchased the treats. He doubted Severus would want to share their space at Hogwarts with an animal on top of having to share it with him.

When Harry turned, he spotted the man himself examining some dried frogs legs. He remembered from Severus’s Potions lessons how he’d often recommend that the students check some of the menagerie’s dried products before heading to the apothecary, in case they had some better quality goods.

“That was quick,” he said, approaching him. “Find what you were looking for?”

“I wasn’t looking for anything in particular,” said Severus, looking up. “But you never know when they may have an artefact that would come in useful for class.”

Harry grinned sheepishly. “I accidentally wound up in there when I was twelve.”

“ – _Accidentally_ _wound up_ in there?” Severus didn’t look as though he believed him.

“Yep. I botched the Floo address – it was terrifying. Lucius Malfoy came in so I had to hide in the Vanishing Cabinet.”

Severus sneered. “Only you.” He tilted his head slightly. “When you were twelve... Lucius didn’t purchase that infernal diary from there, surely?”

“No, I can’t remember why he was there now. I think Borgin saw the diary, though. He was very interested in it.”

“Naturally.”

Harry shook his head, recalling that largely awful summer, and the turbulent second year at Hogwarts that followed. The Wizarding World was now a very different place, particularly for people like Lucius Malfoy.

Severus indicated the shop entrance. “Shall we?” he said.

They exited the menagerie and made their way over to the apothecary’s, which was particularly stifling and smelly at this time of year. It was while they were inside there, as Harry ended up holding a few little packets of things he’d rather not stick his nose into, that he noticed a few pointed fingers and mutterings in their direction. This time, Severus joined Harry in pretending not to notice, and weaved smoothly around the other customers as if he owned the place, stopping every now and then to spoon ingredients into more little packages as Harry trailed along behind him. When Severus was finally paying for his items the tall, thin man behind the counter eyed Harry almost hungrily over Severus’s shoulder, and Harry made a mental note never to come in here again if he could avoid it.

After that, it didn’t matter where Harry and Severus went; they were recognised _everywhere_. It was as though word had gotten out and now everyone was almost waiting to catch a glimpse of them. People stopped in their tracks in order to gawp and whisper amongst themselves; in Flourish & Blotts they were almost penned in at the counter until Severus forced their way through, and in the little stationery shop everything went uncomfortably quiet as the other customers realised who was among them. Maybe he was imagining it, but Harry thought that most of the people seemed to recognise Severus first, from the papers, or they were ex-pupils of his (and he was a good amount taller anyway) and they would then deduce it was Harry accompanying him.

“Severus,” said Harry uneasily as they exited the stationers’. “I’m sorry to say it, but I still need to get some robes.” Severus was looking increasingly as though he was about to hex anyone who came within a foot of them, and at Harry’s words he just raised an eyebrow at him in that way that made the other man feel particularly stupid. “Did you want to go back and I’ll get measured? It’s getting a bit ridiculous, isn’t it?”

“I think under the circumstances I had better stay,” drawled Severus. “If everyone gets wind of the fact that Harry Potter is in a state of undress they’ll probably rampage Madam Malkin’s.”

Harry sighed and nodded, and they made their way to the last shop. You didn’t actually have to get undressed at all to be measured for robes, but it was a long running joke amongst the magical community that you might bump into a famous witch or wizard at Madam Malkin’s as they were having a fitting, and what a grand opportunity it might be for flirtation, or more. He could sense a small crowd lingering just behind them, and hoped they hadn’t been stalked – but for whose sake, he was no longer sure.

In Madam Malkin’s a little girl and boy who looked as though they might be twins were being measured for their Hogwarts robes in the corner, while their parents looked on proudly. The rest of the space was gloriously empty, cool, and peaceful.

“Ah, hello, dears!” greeted Madam Malkin when she emerged from behind the curtained off supply area. Harry had always appreciated her welcoming yet restrained nature, even though she clearly knew who he was. He supposed it was the mark of a professional who really _did_ serve the rich and famous along with everyone else. “What can I do for you today?”

“Morning,” Harry greeted her, aware of Severus glowering at the window. “Erm, I just need a couple of pairs of plain robes. I think I’m probably the same size as last time I was here...” He tried not to blush.

“Broader in the shoulders, I’ll wager. Not to worry, we’ll get you sorted in a jiffy.”

She tactfully led them towards the back of the shop, and got Harry up on a footstool so that she could start measuring. Severus took a seat on the plush purple armchair in the corner.

“Just as I suspected!” Madam Malkin tutted as she measured the width of Harry’s shoulders.

When Harry turned to assist her measurements, he noticed with a frisson of heated surprise that Severus’s gaze was travelling up the length of his body. He suddenly felt rather exposed standing on the footstool, and was half-relieved when Madam Malkin placed a set of robes on him to start fitting. “Now, did you want just plain black, dear?” she asked. “Only we’ve got a set of green that would look quite lovely on you.”

Harry resisted glancing at Severus and said, “Er, I’d consider green.” He recalled how he’d rather liked his dress robes for the Yule Ball in fourth year.

“Excellent! I’ll fetch them.” Madam Malkin bustled out.

“Slytherin colours,” Severus remarked.

Harry shrugged. “McGonagall wears green all the time,” he said tartly. He noticed the family had gone to pay for their robes, and the little twins were peering around the counter at them. They didn’t seem shocked, or as though they had recognised them, but instead just looked as if they were simply curious about the two strangers. He smiled at them and gave a small wave. “Ah, look,” he cooed, almost forgetting his present company. “We’ll be teaching them.”

“So it is the same, each and every year.”

“Don’t you feel proud, though?”

Severus scoffed. “Proud?”

“To have taught all these people – watched them grow up. You must have taken a liking to _some_ of them?”

“One child is much the same as the next. Some, I’ll grant you, show a little more promise than others...” Harry guessed he was referring mostly to the Slytherins. “...and some are awfully _trying_.” He narrowed his eyes up at Harry. “But by and large they don’t make much of an impact on me. And these days there also seems to be an increasing abundance of them who _do not realise it is rude to stare_.” Severus said the latter part loudly enough for the twins to hear, and they both gave little squeaks and ran around the other side of their parents, who were still chatting with the other witch who was serving them.

Harry gave him a look. “You’re so mean.”

Severus appeared quite perplexed. _“Mean?”_ he repeated, as though the word was something tacky he didn’t want to be associated with.

“They’re kids, they’re just curious.”

“Sorry, dear, the other customers had some questions,” announced Madam Malkin as she returned, holding a pile of fabric that were almost exactly the same bottle green as Harry’s old dress robes. Evidently her and Molly Weasley shared the same tastes.

“That’s okay – those look great,” he said to her. “I’ll take them, if that’s all right.”

Severus pointed at him, seemingly quite fired up. “If your time at Hogwarts proved anything, it is that ‘curiosity’ is not to be encouraged,” he said.

Harry just sniggered as Madam Malkin helped him out of the black robes and into the green ones. “Yes, _that’s_ the big conclusion of my education.”

“Interfering little brat.”

Harry felt Madam Malkin, who was hemming the robes, stall for a moment in alarm at Severus’s words, and he hoped that his second bout of laughter put her at ease. He was enjoying this as much as his husband clearly was. “You can’t teach anyone who isn’t at least a bit _curious_ ,” he said. “And don’t pretend for one minute you didn’t spend half _your_ time at school looking up hexes, and inventing a few of your own, too.”

The bell above the front door tinkled as the family left. The twins glanced back fearfully at them before their parents hurried them out into the street.

“Well, congratulations,” Harry said to Severus. “Those poor children are scared of you already.” He turned to Madam Malkin. “Were they first years; the twins?”

“Oh, yes, sweet things,” she replied. “Do you know, I think I remember _your_ first fitting, too. With that other boy, wasn’t it?” Her tone became sharper, no doubt because she’d remembered the nasty exchange with Malfoy and his mother a few years afterwards.

“Oh, _yeah_ ,” Harry said over his shoulder to Severus as Madam Malkin placed some more pins around his shoulders. “This is where I met Draco Malfoy for the first time. Honestly, I could tell even then we weren’t going to see eye to eye.”

“Indeed?” said Severus after a moment’s pause. “Tell me, do you make a habit of running into members of the Malfoy family wherever you go?”

“Yes. I hide in shops and wait for them.”

Severus didn’t seem amused, and he remained silent as Harry paid for his new robes and they made their way out to find somewhere they could Floo back to Grimmauld Place from.


	7. An Unexpected Row

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An argument threatens the delicate balance that Harry and Severus have maintained so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the love. I apologise that I haven't taken the time to respond to each of the comments, but I will try to keep updating fairly regularly. This fic may not go on for that many more chapters, but I will at least get them to Hogwarts before I finish :)

They were almost followed into the Floo network from the Leaky Cauldron. At that moment, Harry felt particularly thankful for the security measures that prevented just anyone from accessing their home, and relieved to finally be away from the crowds.

When they arrived, Severus stormed away from the fireplace, scouring his robes off with an irritable flick of his wand.

“That was mad,” said Harry, stepping out of the hearth to give himself a clean too. He set his bag on the table and went to go to the fridge. “Talk about the need for personal space.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t wish to stay longer and bask in all the attention.”

That remark, or rather, the manner in which it was delivered, stopped Harry in his tracks. He stared at Severus as the man stood by the door, eyeing him with the kind of cold disdain that he hadn’t seen in months. He frowned. “Well, why did you bother coming with me, then?” he demanded.

Severus raised an eyebrow. “You would rather have gone alone?”

“Or you could have left early. I _said_ you should have done.”

“So that you would be free to run back into Draco again?”

Harry blinked. What was _that_ about? “Sorry – why are we having this argument again?” he asked, genuinely stumped.

Severus put up a hand. “What would I know about it? It’s no longer my concern what you do; even if you’ve gone back to tracing his every movement.”

_Oh,_ thought Harry. Not even when he’d visited Severus in hospital after the war; when everything had still been so raw and volatile, had they spoken of this. Perhaps Harry had been naïve to think it would never come up? After all, Severus had taken on full responsibility for Malfoy in their sixth year, and while it had certainly ended badly for Harry, it must also have been a spectacularly miserable time for both of them. Severus genuinely cared for Malfoy, and always had done, and so perhaps even if _Malfoy_ had forgiven Harry for injuring him, Severus had not. It seemed abrupt for the subject to resurface like this, but then, they _had_ seen Malfoy not long ago, hadn’t they?

“You know that I never wanted to torment him, or anything,” said Harry carefully, after a few moments. “I thought he’d taken the Dark Mark... and – well, I wasn’t actually wrong about _that_ , but –”

Severus cut across him. “Your remarkable skills of deduction, along with your blatant stupidity almost led to his death.”

Harry felt like he’d been slapped. And yet, he knew that what Severus was saying was true. He’d behaved completely irresponsibly that day, even if _Sectumsempra_ had come from _Severus’s_ old book. “It was a mistake; maybe the worst mistake I’ve ever made... I know it doesn’t excuse it, but I did apologise to him.”

“And it could have all been avoided if you’d simply minded your own business.” Severus’s eyes flashed. “If you hadn’t allowed your _obsession_ to overtake you.”

Harry frowned at that. He knew his actions that year were deeply flawed, but Severus and Malfoy weren’t the only ones who had been under pressure. He couldn’t stop himself. He said, “It could also have been avoided if I hadn’t been kept in the dark about some pretty key details.” At this, Severus scoffed, and Harry continued, incensed. “Why didn’t you just tell me _something_? You or Dumbledore - you could have given me a bit more to work with.”

“It was no concern of yours.”

Harry let out a short, mirthless laugh. “In what way, exactly? I don’t think there was a single piece of information you kept from me that didn’t directly affect my actions in the end.”

“Oh, here it comes; the self-indulgent whining.”

“You both thought I was going to die anyway, what difference would it have made?”

To Harry’s grim satisfaction, Severus _snarled_ at that. “You _did_ die, you stupid boy!”

“Exactly! And by that time I already knew about the prophecy. Oh, I know _now_ you were always looking out for me, but let’s not pretend like you went out of your way to protect my _feelings_. Actually, I’m amazed you restrained yourself from telling me all the good news.”

Severus sneered at him. “And you would have made such a _success_ of concealing sensitive information from the Dark Lord – when you hadn’t even a basic grasp of Occlumency? When you couldn’t get a _single_ emotion or thought under control?”

Harry fumed. “And who repeatedly failed to control _his_ emotions? Who _failed_ to teach me how to manage any of it?”

Severus’s voice went dangerously quiet. “Did you honestly think I was going to continue the classes after your little stunt with the Pensieve? Meddling little brat – you had absolutely no _right_.”

Harry was almost panting. As civil as he’d tried to keep things between them, as much as he'd wished for cooperation, he _had_ expected an explosion of this kind all along. He’d hoped they would keep it reasonably contained, but that too, exposed his naivety. He supposed that this marked the end of their semi-comfortable cohabitation. It had been a remarkably calm six months, and it seemed a shame after such an agreeable morning together, but clearly they’d been delaying the inevitable, because he would _not_ back down on this, either. “No, I suppose I didn’t,” he said after a moment, shrugging bitterly. “Another one of many decisions I’m not proud of. But the thing is, Severus, when everyone around you consistently keeps things from you and _lies_ to you, sometimes you just have to go and find things out for yourself!”

“Ah, yes, my mistake – you had every reason in the world to invade my privacy!”

“You’d had more than enough fun with mine! I do remember, you know. Those lessons were an opportunity for you to embarrass and belittle me and you took it! All I wanted to find out from your memories was something – _anything_ – about the Department of Mysteries. So don’t flatter yourself by thinking that I was after anything personal from you!”

_“Ignorant child!”_ Severus hissed, and he advanced on Harry, grabbing him by the upper arms. “And were you, pray, after something _personal_ from Draco Malfoy?”

Harry stared up at him incredulously, trembling slightly in his grip. Somehow, with the way it was going, he hadn’t expected the conversation to return to Malfoy. “You – you’re not back on _him_ again? You _know_ I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“Oh, I _do_ know. You and he share so much history, after all.”

“ – I don’t understand.”

“You saved his life during the battle, didn’t you?” Severus grinned as Harry did a double take. “You went back for him. Ah, but did you think no one knew?”

Harry shook his head. He hadn’t thought that Malfoy _would_ tell anyone about what went down in the Room of Requirement; more out of pride than anything else, but then the incident _had_ also resulted in Crabbe’s death. “I still don’t understand,” he said, now angry, confused, and rather afraid.

Severus released him. “I am well aware that the idiotic behaviour was not _all_ on your side. Draco was quite fixated on you enough in your younger years, it was only natural that you might become _upset_ when you were finally denied that attention.”

_“What?”_

Severus’s eyes were positively glittering. “Oh, yes. Lucius reported after your first year how Draco hadn’t stopped whinging about you at every opportunity. So much so that he even loosely speculated on what a marriage between the two of you might look like.” Harry reeled back in disbelief as Severus continued. “Of course it would have been a step down for them in terms of blood status – but, then again, if you’d proven to be the Dark Lord’s successor, maybe not so much?”

“...You’ve got to be joking?”

“It _was_ a mere fanciful notion, and not one that survived for long. Yours and Draco’s – _and_ Lucius’s antics saw to that.”

Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was absurd, all of it.

Severus tilted his head, gazing down at him coldly. “...But now I wonder if perhaps the two of you have decided to bury the hatchet after all?”

Harry shook his head again. “Severus – what the hell are you getting at? Malfoy and I have always hated each other.”

“Why? How did it start?”

“I, well – He – he was sore about the fact that I wouldn’t shake his hand after he insulted Ron, and then for the next seven years after that he was a constant thorn in my side.”

“Because he was jealous?”

“Well – yes, but about Quidditch. You know, stupid stuff. Not... anything else.”

“And you’re so very sure of that, are you? In all of your snooping about over the years, you’re positive that you got everything so _right_?”

“Well... I don’t... I don’t speak to him... I don’t – we don’t have anything to _do_ with each other.” Harry wasn’t even sure why he was denying something so preposterous – so _impossible_. He couldn’t see where this argument was going anymore; he didn’t understand what Severus wanted from him.

“You yourself have championed the _revelation_ that there could be more to a Slytherin than pettiness and hatred; that we might be capable of feeling just like all the other, _better_ houses.”

“...Well, _I_ don’t think of Malfoy that way.”

Severus raised his eyebrow again, unmoved. “No?”

“I haven’t thought of _anyone_ that way. Not really _seriously_.” And it was true. Even his feelings for Ginny – lovely Ginny – had been constantly interrupted by other demands. He thought of those few, precious moments when they’d been together after longing for her company, until something would tear them apart yet again. But he didn't think that, even with his jealousy of Dean Thomas, that their innocent romance had ever had the kind of _intensity_ Severus was talking about. And then, when the war had ended, after they’d been through so much, Harry had felt so drained, it was like he couldn’t feel _anything_ for a while. His eyes filled with tears.

Severus was no longer smirking. His expression was changed, but Harry’s vision blurred over too fast to identify it. “Then how can you be sure?” he asked quietly.

“I suppose I can’t.” Harry hung his head. The tears spilled down over his cheeks. His hands were shaking – maybe they had been since the shouting began, he couldn’t remember.

Suddenly, there were hands on his face, thumbing the tears away and tilting his chin back up. The kiss began gentle, but soon spiralled out of control. Harry gripped Severus around the middle, almost standing on his tiptoes to reach his mouth with his own. Severus began to walk him back, until he was pressed hard up against the fridge. The milk bottles rattled inside like a warning, as Severus took advantage of Harry’s surprise at the impact to push his tongue inside his mouth. It was different to last time; this was like being _devoured_. Severus’s left hand remained on Harry’s cheek, as if to hold him there, while his other one moved down as he enveloped him in an embrace. Harry responded gladly; desperate for something to hold onto after their awful, insane fight. After a few moments, Severus released the kiss, but kept Harry pinned against the fridge, which shifted ever so slightly and the milk bottles rattled again. He gazed down into Harry’s eyes, a look of something almost troubled in his face. Harry looked back at him, trying to figure out how their fight had led to this.

And then he realised.

_If you hadn’t allowed your obsession to overtake you._

_You yourself have championed the revelation that there could be more to a Slytherin._

_That we might be capable of feeling._

_Because he was jealous._

Was Severus jealous of him and Malfoy? But that really _was_ ridiculous, wasn’t it? There wasn't anything going on, and never had been!

Harry turned their conversation over in his head as he listened to the birds chirruping just outside. He could feel the tears still drying on his cheeks; Severus’s ribcage expanding with each breath under his hands.

“Are you all right?” Severus asked him, so quietly, and Harry was thrown off by the question slightly. He nodded. Severus let go of him, and Harry stumbled, his legs too light. Severus helped steady him, and then grabbed him by the hand and led him away; through the door and up the stairs.

Harry barely kept himself from falling over; unable to wrench his gaze from Severus as they went up, along the hall, and up again to the first floor. His heart thumped frantically as he realised they were heading for Severus’s bedroom, watching almost as if in slow motion as they approached the door. Severus made just a small motion with his fingers, and the doorknob turned of its own accord.

Even when they were inside the mysterious, forbidden room, Harry still could not concentrate on anything but Severus. He tugged at Harry gently, encouraged him to sit down on the end of the bed, before letting go of his hand to release the little bag from his belt and place it on his desk. He returned his attention to Harry immediately; standing there and staring at him. Harry watched him curiously; fearfully almost. Severus’s eyes were darker than he’d ever seen them, and they seemed to roam over him, just as they’d done in Madam Malkin’s but now without any distractions.

It took perhaps a minute of just looking at each other for Severus to crack. He moved forwards, capturing Harry’s face in his hands for another kiss; rougher this time. Harry wasn’t sure if he pulled Severus down, or if Severus pushed him, but soon he was on his back with the man astride him. Harry had never had a kiss like this, or been handled in this way before. It was maddening; it was _wonderful_ , and his cock was definitely interested.

And then Severus was pulling away from Harry’s mouth, and pressing little kisses to his cheeks; nosing under his jaw until Harry raised his head slightly. He began to give the same attention to the tender flesh of Harry’s neck, and then he began sucking just _so_ and Harry let out a shuddering breath, grabbing hold of Severus’s waist.

Harry twisted his body slightly, trying to scoot back further on the bed, _needing_ more contact with Severus. The action successfully caused their bodies to drag against each other, and Severus growled against his throat. Harry knew why; he could feel the reason jutting against his hip. He squirmed again, pushing up this time as his own cock hardened fully inside his trousers and underwear.

Severus got the message; pausing long enough to haul Harry up further along the mattress and then lie on top of him fully. He rocked down against him, and Harry moaned, sliding one hand up Severus’s spine and finally threading his fingers through his fine, silky hair. Severus kissed him for a moment as their hips undulated together, and then he turned his attention to the other side of Harry’s neck. Soon they found their pace, and Harry would have been embarrassed by the harsh gasps that were emitting from him, if it didn’t feel so very _good_. The rage, and the frustration of that morning poured out into their rough movements together.

Severus was making his own deep, breathy sounds against Harry’s skin with each powerful thrust. All too soon, Harry could feel his orgasm building, and he pushed into Severus’s movements as much as he could until the sensation burst and he came, shaking beneath him. It only took Severus a fraction of a second after him to climax, and his hips shoved down forcefully as he groaned loudly in Harry’s ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise that Severus is kind of a dick in this, but then he is in the books and I did want to keep it fairly in character. I hope you guys enjoyed.


	8. An Interesting Development

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry reflects on everything in the aftermath of his and Severus's encounter.
> 
> Trigger warning for mentions of illness in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much everyone.

As the blissful waves ebbed from his body and mind, Harry became increasingly aware of the wet mess around his crotch, and the way his and Severus’s breathing was gradually slowing. He opened his eyes. There was still birdsong filtering in through the open window; what time was it? Just midday? It couldn’t be much later than that. Severus’s breath was still hot against his neck, and his hair was tickling Harry’s skin.

“We still have our shoes on,” Harry said stupidly after a moment. He couldn’t believe he’d just come in his pants beneath his once-hated old Potions teacher.

Severus rolled off him abruptly to sit on the edge of the bed, head bowed so that all Harry could see was his hunched over shoulders and askew collar.

Harry pushed up on his elbows to look at him properly, suddenly nervous again. Their argument about Malfoy may have prompted this encounter, but what if that had been an excuse? Even if Severus really was jealous about something so stupid, it didn’t necessarily mean that he wanted Harry for who he was. Severus could just have... wanted sex, or he might have felt drained from the curse’s effects and been fed up and wanted a quick fix. Sex helped strengthen the bond; they both knew it, but Harry had ruled out the possibility of it ever happening between them.

After a few moments of allowing Severus to wallow or whatever he was doing, Harry frowned. He didn’t care, he decided. He wasn’t going to let Severus do another disappearing act on him. All his anxieties aside, now that this _had_ happened between them, he wanted it again. He’d never experienced anything like what they’d just done, and suddenly it didn’t matter so much if this wasn’t really about him; if Severus was just using him. Even the man’s horrible temper and his cruel goading now seemed kind of silly; juvenile, even. In spite of all that, Harry wanted it again, and more; he wanted Severus to show him everything he knew, if he did know more. He thought he probably did. An age gap of twenty years certainly gave Severus the advantage of experience in most things, and he’d seemed pretty confident just now; as basic as rutting against each other was. It had felt so _good_. Severus may not have taken him in the fullest sense of the term, but it had almost felt like it; pinned under his movements and receiving the benefits of every last thrust.

Gently, Harry sat up and placed a hand on Severus’s shoulder. Severus jumped slightly at the touch and looked back at him, visibly startled. Good, thought Harry, as he leaned forwards to place a gentle kiss on his lips. It served him right to be on the back foot after his earlier behaviour. When he moved back slightly, Severus’s expression was still clearly mystified, but he allowed Harry to pull him right back on top of him again. They kissed deeply again for a few minutes, until Harry felt himself growing hard again, and he sighed in pleasure. Just as he was debating whether he should tell Severus or make some excuse to leave before it got awkward, Severus shifted up and popped the button on Harry’s jeans and unzipped them. Relieved and rather delighted, Harry helped him by shuffling up a bit so that Severus could pull his jeans around his hips. There was no time to go shy, or get embarrassed by the size and shape of his dick or any of the things a person might face having their genitals exposed to someone else for the first time. Severus had licked his own palm, and then he was taking a hold of Harry’s cock to begin gently teasing him to full hardness.

Harry hissed slightly, squeezing his eyes shut and thrusting lazily into Severus’s grip. As he edged closer to a second orgasm, he considered whether he should stop this so that he could return the favour. Severus’s eyes were still shining with excitement as he leant over Harry, but he was showing no signs of coming any time soon, and the tugging of his hand was only rising in determination. From what little Harry knew about men and sex, he supposed that his youth granted _him_ the advantage in this particular area. Although, it hardly felt like he had an advantage _over_ Severus when the man was making him writhe beneath his control like this.

This time, Harry let out a little cry as he climaxed, and Severus milked his cock through the last of the aftershocks until he had no more to give. There was a sheen of perspiration across his face, and his heart was beating fast.

Severus sat up and muttered a spell that cleaned on and, impressively, under their clothes. Harry would have to learn that from him, he thought dazedly as he stretched out. He sat up too and looked around the room for the first time since they’d come in. It was largely unchanged, except for all the unfamiliar volumes now lining the bookshelf, along with a few bottles of different shapes and sizes, some empty; others filled and labelled. On the desk lay a few rolls of parchment, an inkwell and quill, and on one of the two little chests of drawers framing the bed was a silver alarm clock perched on top of a book. Severus had made no attempt at decorating the space himself, although Harry had invited him to do so. The same pictures remained on the walls; a landscape of dawn breaking across a meadow, and a collection of blue, black and gold prints that had used real plants to get all the same shapes across four images. It didn’t surprise him too much; Severus was probably still adamantly refusing to know Grimmauld Place as his true home, and besides, Harry somehow didn’t imagine he’d have much of an impulse to experiment with interior design.

Severus was watching him, and Harry smiled in return when he noticed. He wondered what they would do now; what this meant for them.

“I – must rest,” said Severus quietly. It didn’t sound like a dismissal, or a rejection, or even an exasperated goodbye. It just sounded truthful; almost apologetic.

Harry looked at him more closely. He _did_ look tired, probably from the two bouts of sex they’d just indulged in, but he knew that the curse did still affect his energy sometimes. He nodded, and gingerly moved off the bed to stand up. His legs felt rather funny. He swiftly pulled his jeans up, fastened them and moved towards the open door. He turned back, pleased to find Severus’s gaze still trained on him. “Sleep well,” he said softly, and left, closing the door carefully behind him.

He was glad that Severus no longer required pushing to take his respite. He did not miss those first few weeks of their marriage, when he’d spent camping out next to Severus’s bed in the specialist ward for curses at St Mungo’s. The man was a doctor's nightmare; stubborn, proud and absolutely determined to try and do everything for himself. But perhaps that, as much as anything else, was what had saved him. The curse placed on Severus worked slowly; so slowly that it might be mistaken for some kind of cancer. Only when close to the end of its tenure did its magical nature became obvious, but by that time there was very little that could be done to stop it. The energy was leeched from the victim like sand through an hourglass; their body shutting down, and any fight to remain living through the misery of it all, eventually leaving them. Still recovering from the years old wound from Nagini, it had taken even Severus by complete surprise when he’d collapsed back in January and had to be carted off to the hospital wing at Hogwarts.

Harry didn’t hear of it until Severus was transferred to St Mungo’s. He’d dropped everything at once to come and see him, even though Professor McGonagall had warned him that he might not be able to do anything. Severus had been pale; almost yellow with sickness and looking prematurely old and feeble. Seeing him like that had reminded Harry of the Shrieking Shack; the snake and the blood. It upset him far more deeply than he would have expected at the time. Perhaps it was because, despite the vindictive way he’d gone about things, Harry _did_ feel indebted to Severus for his sacrifices, and protection of him. Or maybe it was because the man was one of the few adults left in his life from before the war; and who had remained unchanged. He couldn’t tell whether he’d already had feelings for him back then. Before, he would almost certainly have said he absolutely did _not –_ in the romantic sense at least, but he’d definitely held a fascination for him; one that might have held ground in the physical sense.

Upon Harry’s arrival at St Mungo’s, he’d thrown himself into trying to find a cure along with the healers, McGonagall, Hermione, and Narcissa Malfoy. Both Narcissa and Severus believed that the most likely culprit behind the curse was Bellatrix Lestrange, whom had always doubted his loyalty to Voldemort, and been deeply resentful that he had been not only forgiven for desertion, but granted duties of the highest importance. However, even with such an intricate bit of blood magic, had _she_ been the one to cast it, the curse should have been lifted upon her death. That left her husband, Rodolpus, as the most likely contender, for she still had the biggest motive, even dead as she was. But, naturally, neither Rodolphus nor any of the other surviving Death Eaters came forward, and even if they had, it wouldn’t have helped any.

Through some very quick research, Hermione discovered that the only way to stop the curse in its tracks was to kill whoever placed it. The other option was for the victim to form a bond with another witch or wizard and wait until their magic, mind and body strengthened enough to fight it off, which could take months or even years. Harry suspected that, even before he himself was suggested as the second option, Severus would have gladly taken the first one. The Ministry might not be willing to execute their prisoners, but he’d been able to picture Severus entering Azkaban and neatly disposing of each and every one of the remaining Death Eaters with disturbing clarity. But Severus had been too far-gone to enact any revenge by that time, and so that had left him with the alternative, whether he wanted it or not.

Harry still had a pleasant heat just under the surface of his skin, and was feeling quite dazed, but he did not want to sleep. He needed to turn the events of this week over in his mind some more. He changed and went out for a jog, taking his usual loop around the surrounding streets and along the park.

This was new development had taken him completely by surprise. In all their months of marriage, Severus had never once given him any indication of wanting a sexual relationship. Or had he? He certainly had never said anything; although he did stare a lot. Severus always stared at everyone, though; it was his way of figuring a person out; intimidating them, and sometimes reading them, quite literally. Harry supposed that the man was, yet again, at a disadvantage within their predicament. Where such a large age gap was concerned, it was potentially rather uncomfortable for the older party to make the first move, and with _their_ history, there was also the risk that Harry, and everyone else, might get the wrong idea. But Harry wasn’t stupid. He knew Severus had _never_ harboured any inappropriate attraction to him before he’d been legal, and even if age hadn’t been a boundary, their very mutual hatred would have been. He’d also assumed that Severus was straight, given that the only romantic feelings the man had ever admitted to had been for Harry’s mother.

Harry let out a heavy sigh and wiped at the sweat dripping from his brow as he passed a small group of Muggle teenage girls. Was the subject of his mother going to be an issue, he wondered? With some discomfort, he mused that at least he couldn’t be much of a replacement for her, being a man and everything. Severus had seemed well aware of _that_ fact. But after all, it wasn’t as though Severus had announced himself in love with Harry. He’d had his little tantrum over Malfoy, but that was likely more about the injury of Harry potentially seeking out other company while they were still legally married. And then there was Harry himself; did he want anything from Severus except civility and sex? He didn’t know.

When he returned home he took a nice, cool shower, and decided to eliminate all thought of Severus from his mind until he saw the man again. He couldn’t make any conclusions until he knew that things would be different from now on. He spent the rest of the afternoon trying to read and going through one of his class plans. But all the while his mind kept returning to thoughts of black hair and eyes; of long, elegant hands brushing his skin and moans of desire against his ear.

The smell of cooking wafting up the stairs a few hours later drew Harry down to the kitchen. He found Severus leaning over the hob to season whatever it was that smelled so delicious. He did occasionally cook for them, and often without informing Harry so that he’d look like an arse if he declined. It was obviously deliberate.

“Hello,” he said, clearing his throat gently.

Severus twisted around to face him, visage emotionless apart from the steely look in his eyes.

Harry’s heart sank.

Severus stuck the wooden spoon he was holding into the pot on the stove, and then walked to the end of the table to grab up a newspaper from there and thrust it into Harry’s hands. It was the _Evening Prophet_ , and Severus was pointing out a small article a few pages in. The title read:

_SAVIOUR BLUSHES AT ATTENTIONS FROM EX-DEATH EATER HUSBAND_

And there, between the headline and article text, was a picture of the two of them walking through Diagon Alley. The photographer had caught them at the moment Harry had turned to say something to Severus, and their likenesses kept looking at each other with seemingly rapt attention. Harry wasn’t sure exactly when it had been taken, but he must have been making some sort of joke or cheeky question, and as a result, the pair in the picture were glancing at each other mischievously... suggestively, almost. Within the article, there was also a reference to Harry ‘treating’ Severus to a few luxury purchases.

Harry looked up at Severus, his mouth open. Severus was looking back at him stony-faced. Harry couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing.

Severus smirked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to say again how grateful I am for all the hits and comments and everything. It absolutely makes my day, it really does. I hope everyone is staying safe and happy at this difficult time. 
> 
> Apologies for the lack of interaction in this scene, but apparently Harry has a lot of thinking to do. There will be more going on in the next few chapters <3


	9. The Lost Slytherin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple of Harry's friends react to the article, and Harry discusses the changes between him and Severus with someone else for the first time.

Harry was writing at his desk in the front room when a large tawny owl swooped in through the open window. It startled him out of a light daze, and he put his quill down in order to catch the letter that dropped from above.

Inside the envelope there was a copy of the article about him and Severus torn out from last night’s _Evening Prophet_. On the back of a Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes order form, was a short message:

_Blushes at attentions my arse! Did he strangle you or something? Do you have any idea how much this will scar me? Do you care about my feelings at all? Also, thanks for not bringing the git in to the shop._

_Ron_

_PS George says congratulations._

Harry chuckled. He opened one of the little drawers in the writing desk and fished out a treat for the owl. The bird immediately desisted its circling around the high ceiling, and came to land with a thump onto the desk. It hooted gratefully at Harry and plucked the treat from his palm. “Stay there a sec,” Harry said to it. He grabbed up his quill and a spare bit of parchment and responded:

_Hi Ron,_

_No strangling has occurred, honest. And you’re welcome. I don’t think Severus is ready to visit the shop, and I don’t think the shop is quite ready for him. Also, what are you doing reading the Prophet? I’m very sorry about any trauma but if you’ll read that rubbish you’re only bringing it on yourself._

_Lots of love, Your Saviour_

_PS Tell George thanks._

He attached his letter to the owl’s leg, and leant away just in time to avoid getting hit in the face by its wings. He watched it duck smoothly beneath one of the open sash windows and then soar away over London. His mind returned to the events of last night. He hadn’t returned to bed with Severus. They’d eaten dinner together in relative quiet and comfort, speaking only of trivial things, and then Severus had excused himself after spelling the dishes to wash themselves up. Again, Harry hadn’t detected any of the usual iciness from him, but there had also been no clarification of anything that had happened between them. It was not over; that much he knew. Severus desired this as much as he did, even if his reasoning might not be the same. As Harry saw the little speck that was Ron’s owl finally dip out of sight, he wondered. Would things between him and Severus change enough that it might become necessary to tell his friends? And what in the name of Merlin would everyone make of it?

He did not see Severus until one o’clock, by which time he and Ron had sent two more letters between them and made plans for Friday evening – the last Friday before Harry would be leaving for Hogwarts with Severus.

Harry made some soup, and then mustered up the courage to go and knock on Severus’s door.

_“Yes?”_ came the response from inside.

“Would you like some lunch?” Harry called to him. To his surprise, Severus opened the door, and Harry swallowed before speaking again. “It’s soup – if you want it?”

Severus nodded. “Thank you,” he said. “I’ll come down.” He stepped forwards, but it was clear that the motion was not in order to follow Harry, who had not moved, but to be closer to him.

Harry hesitated, blushing up at him. “I – erm – I’ve invited Ron and Hermione over for dinner on Friday evening, if that’s all right?” He inwardly cursed. He hadn’t been intending to phrase it like he was asking Severus’s permission, which was a habit he’d stubbornly pulled himself out of in the early days of their marriage. “Teddy will be there, as well.”

Severus’s voice was very quiet. “I see.”

“...Will you be around?”

“Is that your way of inviting me?”

“Yes.”

“Is my presence desired?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Indeed?” Severus leant in to whisper in Harry’s ear. “By _all_ of you?”

Harry’s eyes fluttered shut. “ – Absolutely.” He turned his head slightly, allowing their cheeks to brush against each other, before they kissed softly.

Severus released him, his eyes glinting, and he slid an arm around Harry’s shoulders; steering him back into the bedroom. Harry gave no protest.

The soup could wait.

Severus didn’t actually reply to Harry’s invitation until Friday morning. 

“If it is all right with you, I will miss the dinner tonight,” he said as they ate breakfast. “I would like to get a few things in order before Sunday and I fear they will take me into the evening. But you should enjoy the evening with your friends, and I may see you later.”

It was a perfectly civil decline of the invite, but one that offered no argument. Harry was sort of disappointed, but not very. He’d invited Severus because he wanted to continue this friendliness between them, but he’d also been curious as to whether Ron or Hermione would notice something different. The reality, however, would probably have consisted of a largely silent meal, with Harry and Hermione silently praying that Severus or Ron wouldn’t say anything stupid or contentious, or that Teddy wouldn’t ask any awkward questions. Severus rarely hung around when lots of people were present, anyway, and Harry was becoming more and more convinced that the man was actually rather shy instead of just wilfully impolite. However, he had a feeling that Severus would actually _prefer_ to be considered rude than to be thought of as shy. The very word ‘shy’ brought to mind someone rather timid and embarrassed, and while Severus may have had raging insecurities Harry was certain that he’d long abandoned caring what other people thought of him.

They had now had sex several times. During the long afternoon they spent together on Wednesday, Severus had taken Harry for the first time, and after that, Harry just couldn’t get enough. Severus had been careful and _gentle_ with him, taking the time to ready Harry for what was to come while also seeking out any and all ways to make him writhe in ecstasy. After each time, Severus had been pleasant enough, but also contemplative. They had not really discussed what it meant – if it _did_ mean anything, nor had they slept together afterwards. Harry returned to his own bedroom on both Wednesday and Thursday night, simply because he thought he should, and Severus hadn’t stopped him, nor had he complained.

Severus left just after breakfast, just before Andromeda arrived with Teddy. Andromeda was wearing Muggle get up, and could easily be mistaken for a non-magical person. She had on denim shorts, a T-shirt, flip-flops and sunglasses. Harry suspected she did it out of both practicality (and she had lived partially in the Muggle world since marrying Ted), and of a dogged refusal to conform to her Pureblood background’s conventions. The effect was one of a very fashionable, strikingly attractive older woman, although when the light was right it was still unnervingly appeared as though Bellatrix Lestrange had dyed her hair and started buying all her clothes from GAP.

Teddy ran at Harry for a very quick hug and then dashed passed him to get downstairs and head into the garden, holding something small and purple (to match his hair) in his hand.

“Eager, Teddy?” his grandmother called after him, before Harry beckoned her to follow him inside.

Outside, Teddy was blowing a few glistening, multicoloured bubbles out of the little kit he’d been given, but these bubbles stayed afloat for minutes at a time. He set the kit on the side and began following them around on the lawn; chasing and even batting at a few with his small hands.

“Ready for Sunday?” Andromeda asked Harry when he’d brought out the tea tray.

“Just about,” said Harry, pouring her out a cup. “Are you sure you’ll be all right? I mean – I know you will be, but- ”

“For the last time, Harry, we’ll be fine. Teddy will be distracted by school soon enough, and I’ll have work.”

“I’m going to miss you both.”

“And we’ll miss you, but it will pass quickly. It’ll be Christmas before we know it.”

“That reminds me, we’re having Christmas with the Weasleys here. Will you join us?”

Andromeda beamed at him. “Oh, yes, I should think so! Thank you.”

Under his breath, Harry said, “Will you let me pick out a new toy broomstick for him?” He tipped his head in Teddy’s direction.

“I suppose I can allow it.” Andromeda peered at Harry from behind the sunglasses in a rather effortlessly cool way that reminded him somehow of Sirius. “Will Severus be there?”

“I... don’t know.” He hadn’t actually approached the subject of Christmas with Severus yet.

“How are you and him getting along?” She smiled wryly. “I heard all about the piece in the _Prophet_.”

Harry wasn’t sure why (perhaps he was caught off guard – or because this was _Andromeda_ he was speaking to) but he felt himself go bright red.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Has something happened?”

“I – Yes.”

Her tone became sharp; urgent. “He hasn’t hurt you?”

“No! No, of course not.”

“’Of course not,’ eh? I’ve heard all about his appalling behaviour from your friends, you know.”

“He’s been fine recently. Really.”

Andromeda sighed, looking unconvinced. “I remember him from school. A rather odd, spiteful little boy; angry nearly all the time. Mind you, he’s still rather _spiky_ these days – but back then it was very raw – many half-blood Slytherins had similar issues, but he was _quite_ unique. And... naturally my housemates were quick to take him under their wing and _encourage_ all the rage he felt.”

Harry stared at her. “You know about that?”

She snorted. “I remember Lucius and his friends getting it out of him in the common room one evening. I’ve never heard vitriol like it – coming from a child, anyway.”

“Did they pick on him for being half-blood?”

“Quite the opposite – oh, they made it clear to him that his father was something to be ashamed of, but as he _loathed_ the old man anyway, I think he was only too thrilled. They validated all of his anger and hatred, you see. They offered him acceptance where he had never truly had it before, and encouraged him to do the one thing he may not have realised he could do.”

Harry nodded. “Reject his father.”

Andromeda gestured to him affirmatively. “Exactly. And he wasn’t the only one. Many children were persuaded to abandon the family members who weren’t up to scratch. Or worse.”

Harry gave another nod of the head. “Tom Riddle.”

Andromeda’s calm façade wavered for just a second, before she gave another bitter smile. “...Yes. I must confess, I’d forgotten he wasn’t pureblood.”

“Well, that’s what he was going for.”

Andromeda glanced towards Teddy for a moment, and then said, “Honestly, it’s a miracle Severus kept any decency about him at all, with that lot going on at him. I remember them all gathered around him, drying his tears and praising every violent inclination against his father that came out of his mouth. And then Rodolphus turned to me and said, ‘What are you staring at, Black?’ They knew I wasn’t a ‘true Slytherin’ even then. Lucius told him to leave it. He was soft on me because he’d already taken a shine to ‘Cissa.” Andromeda laughed harshly. “How lucky I am in my brother-in-laws!”

Teddy looked over at the sound of her laughter, and then went back to the bubbles. Harry watched him for a minute, too, thinking. Severus was the one person whom he hadn’t dared to ask for a personal account of his time at Hogwarts, and his experiences as a Slytherin. To do so would hit too close to home for both of them, but Andromeda’s story was a reminder that if anyone (except her) was an authority on how toxic ideas spread amongst young the student body, it was _him_.

Andromeda placed a hand on Harry’s wrist. “But you say he hasn’t given you any trouble?”

“...Erm – ”

She sat up straight. “Harry, if you need help – ”

“I don’t!” Harry was certain his face had to be puce by now. “We – we kissed, and...” The words dried up in his throat. He couldn’t talk about this, and yet he so desperately needed to. _How_ did you discuss something like this, he wondered frantically.

Andromeda looked very concerned. “I must confess I’m surprised you’re so... accepting of this.”

Harry swallowed, giving up on trying to speak his more private thoughts, and grinned stupidly. “Well, I married him, didn’t I?”

“An event I was willing to tolerate on the understanding that he didn’t expect any... benefits from you.”

Harry bit his lip. It was strange coming from a time when so many people had quickly dismissed his mistrust of Severus, to now and discovering those who held their own personal suspicions against the man. It made him wonder uneasily about how things might have turned out for them all, had circumstances been different. “He doesn’t. It – it just happened, and – I’m glad it has. _I_ did it to help _him_ , remember? Not the other way around.”

He wondered if perhaps Andromeda herself was part of the reason why Severus cleared out whenever Teddy came over. There seemed to be an intensity to the relationships between all Slytherins, whether or not they were or had ever been friendly. They seemed to remember each other with clarity, even across several different years; perhaps because of the importance of blood status and wealth to so many of their families. He could imagine Severus being as unwilling to socialise with an ex-housemate as with an ex-Death Eater.

“Please don’t say anything about this to anyone else,” he said. “Things have actually been all right between us lately, and if everyone finds out they might get the wrong idea. I don’t want to ruin this – whatever it is.”

Andromeda looked a little sad then. “You like him?” she asked quietly.

“Yes, I think so.”

There was a moment’s pause, and then Andromeda shook her head, sipped her tea and then was as serene as ever. “You don’t have to worry about me blabbing. You’re a grown man and you know your own feelings. But do be careful. Don’t tolerate any nonsense in exchange for his attentions. And – please know that you can talk to me.” She peered over the tops of her sunglasses at him. “About anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter this time, sorry about that. We're leading up to them heading off to Hogwarts so there's a couple of things to get sorted. Many thanks to my readers again, I did not see this fic coming (if that makes sense) but I can't imagine not working on it now. Please do comment and I hope you like! <3


	10. Dinner In the Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Ron come over for dinner, and wish Harry luck for his new job.

Harry, Teddy, Ron and Hermione took their dinner out into the garden. The sun could no longer reach them, but it was still very warm, and storms had been predicted for the night.

“Come on, then,” said Harry, as he dished out the boiled potatoes. “When’s the big day?”

“We think next summer,” said Hermione. “At the Burrow.” She was still dressed for work in thin, summer robes of lavender, and was looking so sternly beautiful that Harry didn’t think he’d dare to cross her even if he hadn’t known her.

“You’re best man, obviously,” said Ron, waving haphazardly at Harry as he helped himself to pasta.

Hermione’s shoulders dropped in exasperation. “Honestly, Ron, you could have asked him _properly_.”

“Yeah,” said Harry, “aren’t you going to get down on one knee or something?”

Teddy snickered.

“All right,” Ron turned to face Harry. “Harry Potter, would you do me – _us_ – ” He looked at Hermione for guidance, and she nodded. “ – the honour of being our best man?”

Harry shrugged. “I’ll think about it,” he said.

“Fine. We could give the position to George instead, you know.”

“You do that. I’d love to hear his speech and see what he _contributes_ to the festivities.”

Ron grimaced. “Don’t joke about it. That’s coming whether we like it or not.”

“It will be great.”

“Yeah!” said Teddy. “He should do fireworks!”

“As long as they’re outside,” said Hermione, apparently not dreading it as much as Ron.

Harry smiled, remembering Fred and George whizzing through the Great Hall on their brooms in a trail of sparks and light, and felt a pang in his heart. They ate and chatted together happily; talking more of the wedding to Teddy’s great despair, and then both Hermione and Ron each shared the complaints of a busy working week.

“I can’t _wait_ for term to start,” Ron moaned. “You should see the mess we have to deal with every day.”

“You'll still have to deal with the under-elevens,” said Harry.

“You're telling me; _those_ little buggers get everywhere – Oh! Sorry.” Ron cringed, eyeing Teddy fearfully.

“Don’t say that word, Teds,” said Harry vaguely.

“Huh?” said Teddy, looking up from a drawing he was doing in crayon.

“Nothing. Lucky escape, Ron.”

“What? Did he say something rude?” Teddy looked between the three of them eagerly.

“ _Very_.”

“No - !” Ron protested. “It wasn’t a _bad_ one.”

Teddy burst into giggles, his imagination obviously funnier than anything Ron could come up with.

“The Ministry has had to intercept even more of those horrible flyers,” said Hermione, obviously hoping to interrupt the silliness before Teddy got anymore ideas.

“New Bloods?” asked Harry, and she nodded.

The New Bloods were a small group claiming to be ‘sympathetic’ to the plight of Muggle-born witches and wizards, but only on the understanding that they severed all ties with their Muggle friends and families when they came of age and had finished their magical education. Of course, they were essentially championing pureblood values, but with the declaration that they were not anything like Death Eaters because they so generously ‘allowed’ Muggle-borns to be accepted into wizarding society. Their leaflets also touched upon elements of a rather creepy breeding program; referencing the ‘correct way’ that the Muggle-borns could help to preserve old wizarding bloodlines through marriage and other means.

“Yuck,” said Harry, just barely avoiding saying something much worse than ‘buggers’. “That’s awful, Hermione.”

“Oi!” said Ron in mock-hurt. “I’ve suffered at work too, you know.”

Hermione smirked at him. “Of course,” she said. “Don’t allow me to hog the attention.”

“I should think so too. Do you realise how many times I’ve nearly been stampeded to death by overexcited children?”

“How many, love?”

“Well, I haven’t counted, have I? There's been too many.”

The two grinned at each other rather suggestively, and Teddy looked between them and then pulled a disgusted face over the table at Harry, who chuckled.

When it grew a little darker they let Teddy light the candles on the table (with Hermione’s close supervision), and Harry used a mild incendiary charm to light the ones inside the lanterns, which were suspended on the wall on either side the back door.

Teddy watched Harry replace his wand back on the table with longing in his big hazel eyes. “I wish _I_ could do that,” he said.

“You can do lovely magic,” said Hermione, reaching to run her thumb along just above Teddy’s eyebrows, of which one was white and the other black.

“It’s not the _same_ , and I have to keep it secret at school.” Teddy looked at Harry pleadingly. “I want to come to Hogwarts with you.”

“I know, I’d bring you with me if I could,” said Harry, pulling a sad face at him. “But it’s not really a suitable place for a five-year-old.”

“Or an eleven-year-old,” Ron cut in with snort. He pointed at Teddy. “And don’t forget, if you leave with him now, you’ll be sharing quarters with Snape.”

Teddy dropped most of the sad act, then. “Oh, yeah.”

Harry felt a little uncomfortable then and turned to Hermione quickly. “When did you know you could do magic?” he asked her.

“Well – I wouldn’t say I _knew_ ,” she said thoughtfully. “You know how it is; Muggles try to rationalise everything. I loved the idea of magic, but I suppose even at a young age I just thought there must be some other explanation for it. I think I’d done a few strange things before then, but I vividly remember there was one day I was standing in front of the big bookshelf in our lounge. I wanted a book from the top shelf, and I was too scared of heights to consider climbing, and I was just standing there concentrating really hard, and then I looked down and the book was right there, on the shelf in front of me! From then on it didn’t matter how high or far away something was – I wouldn’t know how I was doing it, but I’d want something out of reach, and then there it was, right in my hand.”

“Trust you to be able to summon anything you could possibly want and choose a _book_ ,” said Ron, but it was said fondly.

After pudding, they cleared away the plates and cracked open a bottle of wine. Harry was pleasantly surprised when Ron offered to read Teddy his bedtime story. Teddy, who had always thought Ron was extremely cool because he co-ran his favourite joke shop, was ecstatic, and suddenly became a lot more willing to finally put down his modest Chocolate Frog Card collection and go to bed. He even declared that he would get himself ready and rushed inside, closely followed by a rather bemused Ron.

“Make sure he does his teeth, Ron!” Harry called after them.

“’Course!” came Ron’s reply.

Harry stretched out blissfully in his chair, feeling well-fed and relaxed. After a few moments, he saw the light go on in the second floor bathroom window, and could just make out Teddy’s cheerful babbling over the distant sound of running water.

“Do you have everything you need for Sunday?” Hermione asked in her motherly sort of way.

“Yep,” he replied. “...You’ve probably heard I was in Diagon Alley on Tuesday.”

Hermione sniffed. “Yes. I’ve told _not_ Ron to pay attention to that rag.”

“Skeeter has to eat I suppose.”

“Well, it’s good that you and Severus have finally been out together, I suppose.”

“Yeah.”

“How did it go?”

“ – Okay.”

Hermione stared at him.

“We had a massive row when we came back,” said Harry after a beat.

Hermione suddenly looked very concerned. “Oh, dear. What about?”

“I think it was a build up of several things we hadn’t dealt with over the years.” Harry paused, looking up at the house again. It wouldn’t do for Severus to return and overhear them gossiping about him. But there was no sign of him. He wondered if he should tell Hermione about the kissing, at least, although there was the chance Ron might overhear them from Teddy's bedroom. He settled for saying, “It ended all right, though.”

“Have you seen much of him since?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“And – ?”

“It’s been... _better_. Bit awkward.” Harry placed his glass down in a final sort of way, hoping that Hermione would take the hint.

She did. “Speaking of awkward,” she said in a low voice. “I ran into Lucius Malfoy on Wednesday.”

It was Harry’s turn to be worried. “Did he see you?”

“Yes. I would have tried to pretend I hadn’t, but...” She hesitated. “Anyway, I would have thought he’d want to do the same. He looks _awful_.”

“Did he say anything to you?”

“He just said, ‘Miss Granger’ in that snooty way of his. I greeted him back and then I just sort of pretended to be looking through my papers.”

“Where was this? At the Ministry?”

Hermione nodded. “In one of the lifts.”

Harry’s heart plummeted. “Oh, _God_ – just the two of you?”

“No, thankfully there was a wizard I don’t think either of us knew there, too. I think he could sense the tension though, poor man.”

“Lucius didn’t try anything, though?”

“No – no, actually he just sort of kept looking at me in this wretched sort of way. He’d obviously been drinking. I think he was pleased that I didn’t blank him... I don’t know why I _didn’t_. I wouldn’t be surprised if he secretly endorses the New Bloods, but I just... couldn't bring myself to ignore him completely.”

Harry fumed at the very image of Lucius sending pitiful glances at his friend. “You don’t think he might be one of them?” he asked.

Hermione thought about it for a second, and then shook her head. “I’m not sure if his wife would stand for that.”

“Yeah, I think you’re probably right.” Narcissa Malfoy was no open-minded liberal now, but she had become extremely active in her rejection of anything too Dark Arts or Death Eater associated. She’d caused a bit of a stir the previous year by commissioning a portrait of herself by a Muggle artist, claiming that she ‘recognised the art of capturing a moment in time’, in other words, a portrait that did not magically move. She was far and away more vocal than she had ever been before the war. It seemed that she had never been the quiet, dutiful little wife she had appeared to be, but instead had just liked to keep to herself and mind her family’s business. Harry was aware that it was all probably more for the Malfoys’ public face than any sense of ‘Muggle-loving’, particularly with her husband’s inability to pull himself together. He’d become rather nervous of her, but couldn’t help respecting the woman. He always acknowledged her if they ran into each other; and they would even indulge in light conversation, and it occurred to him then that perhaps Lucius had wanted something like it from Hermione. It did not fill him with sympathy. As pathetic as the man might be these days, Lucius had absolutely no right to expect anything from any of them, but Hermione especially.

“Muggle books,” Ron announced when he returned back outside a few minutes later, “are really weird.”

“What did you read?” asked Harry.

“The ones written by the doctor.”

“Dr. Suess,” said Hermione.

“That’s him. Weirdo.”

“Dr Suess is _brilliant_.”

“I’ve never seen creatures like it. And the words... they were okay I suppose. But what the _hell_?”

“I’m afraid you aren’t allowed to not like Dr. Suess. Not in this marriage.”

“All right, keep your hair on, we’re not there yet. And I didn’t say I didn’t _like_ him.”

“I suppose those books are American, too. They probably feel quite different to what you're used to.”

Ron perked up at that. “On that note, when are we going?”

“You’re going to America?” Harry asked.

“We haven’t planned it yet,” said Hermione. “Maybe in a couple of years.”

Harry nudged Ron when he sat down. “That was nice of you. Thank you.”

“What?” said Ron with a shrug. “I used to read to Ginny.”

“Really?” said Hermione. “You’re only a year older than her.”

“I still read to her. We shared a room back when we were small and loads of times she woke me up in the middle of the night with her whining. So I’d go and get a book out.”

“That’s so _sweet_.”

Ron’s ears went pink. “No – not really. It was the best way to get her back to sleep before she woke the whole house up.”

They continued drinking and talking well into the evening, until it was actually dark. Summer would be drawing to a close before long.

Harry yawned. “That reminds me,” he said. “When you move in, you two are in the master bedroom.”

Hermione looked up, surprised. “Oh – no, _Harry_ – ”

“ _Yes_. It’s the biggest bedroom in the house, and there’s two of you. You’ll make more of the space anyway, _and_ it means you don’t have to go up three flights of stairs to get to bed from the kitchen. I haven’t bothered asking Severus to clear out of the one on this floor – didn’t think the conversation would be worth it.”

Ron was unable to suppress a shudder at the thought of sleeping in a bedroom once inhabited by his old Potion's teacher. “No," he said. "That’s fine.”

Hermione still looked a bit embarrassed. “But what about when you come back?” she asked.

“I’ll take one of the third floor rooms,” said Harry. “You can’t argue. I’ve already started moving my stuff up. I’ll be offended if you _don’t_ take it.” He naturally didn’t voice the possibility that he might be sharing _Severus’s_ bedroom when they returned. That was probably getting ahead of himself.

They all hugged when it was time for Ron and Hermione to leave. Harry had invited them to stay over, but Ron was on an early Saturday shift the next day and all his things were at the flat above the shop.

“Good luck, Harry,” said Hermione. “We’ll see you before long, of course.”

“Good luck, mate,” said Ron, patting Harry on the shoulder.

“You must write to us all the time! I want to hear about everything – how it goes with the students and each different year... and – and everything!”

“Steady on, ‘Mione, he’s going to have homework to mark as well, you know.”

“I’ll report back,” Harry assured them both. “Good night, guys.”

~o~

Harry awoke to his heart beating frantically, and his skin covered in goose pimples, but it was not a nightmare that had woken him. In the other room, Teddy was crying. He was up out of bed and on his feet quicker than a Firebolt, and he rushed out into the hall and towards the smaller bedroom.

“Teddy?!” he called, knocking on the ajar door and letting himself in.

Teddy was sitting up in bed, hiccupping through tears with his hands stuffed into his mouth.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Harry went to sit on the bed and put his arms around his godson.

Teddy stammered out the words, “Thuh- there was people shouting in my ears and I – I – ” He hiccupped again, looking around the room in a lost sort of way.

Harry put a hand on Teddy’s forehead, which was sweaty and hot. The room was very stuffy, and he noticed that Teddy was wearing his favourite, thick pyjamas with little snitches all over them. “I think you’ve just got a bit too warm. Here.”

He picked Teddy up and stroked his back softly for a moment before walking to the bathroom as the boy sniffled against his bare shoulder. He knelt by the sink and helped Teddy out of the damp pyjama top, and then wrung a flannel under the cold tap. He dabbed at the boy’s forehead a bit, and wiped at the tears still trailing down his face, and finally at his snotty nose. Teddy’s breathing started to slow, but he still hiccupped loudly every so often.

“Poor thing,” said Harry softly. “Nightmares are horrible.”

Teddy just nodded.

“Here, put that on your head if you’re still warm. I’ll find you a glass.” Harry left the flannel with him and returned to Teddy’s bedroom. He was relieved to find the boy hadn’t wet the bed. Cleaning it up would hardly have been a problem with magic but it was hopefully confirmation that Teddy had just got a bit overheated in the night and not a sign of something more serious.

Finding a little cup on the stand by Teddy’s bed, he grabbed it up and a fresh pair of thin pyjamas, and went back out into the corridor. He started when he found Severus standing at the end of the hall, watching him.

“Is everything all right?” Severus asked.

“Yeah!” Harry panted, smiling at his own jumpiness and Severus’s unfortunate habit of looming everywhere. “Teddy just had a nightmare.”

Severus nodded; his gaze lingering on Harry’s bare chest for a moment.

Harry bit his lip. “Did we disturb you?”

“No, I have just returned.”

The man _was_ still fully dressed, and he didn’t even look remotely tired. Harry remembered how Severus had never looked at all fatigued whenever he’d run into him during one of his night-time escapades at Hogwarts.

Severus glanced at the little cup in Harry’s hands. “I have a draught of dreamless sleep remedy if it would be of any use?” he said.

Surprised, Harry blinked at him for a moment. “Oh, thanks – ” he said awkwardly. “I’m not sure if he’d drink it, though.”

“I have a variation of it that can be diluted with something. It would be an adequate dose for a child.”

Harry considered it. “Do you think it’d work with milk?”

Severus merely nodded and went off down the stairs. If Harry weren’t so tired he’d probably be astonished. Severus always liked to keep himself firmly away from anything to do with Teddy. He remembered when he’d brought the boy into Grimmauld Place for the first time since their marriage. Severus had _stared_ as Harry held Teddy in his arms, as though he was doing something completely alien to him, and then warned him that he held ‘no interest in child-rearing’ and at the time Harry had responded coolly with, “Thank Merlin for that.”

Harry dried Teddy off so he wouldn’t get chilly from the cold water, and then got him into the fresh pyjamas. He led him to his own bedroom, and sat with him on the large bed as Teddy sipped the water and his hiccups finally died down.

“There,” said Harry kindly, still rubbing his back. “Feel better?”

Teddy nodded, gulping the water and spilling a bit from either side of the cup. 

“You’re not worried about anything, are you? Do you think that’s why you had the dream?”

Teddy shook his head, and then shrugged. He stopped drinking with a smack of his lips, still looking a bit teary-eyed. “I don’t remember what happened,” he said carefully, visibly trying to wrack his brains. “There was just loads of shouting and I couldn’t get away.”

“I’ll bet it’s because there’s a storm coming. Lots of people get bad dreams when it’s hot and the pressure’s high.” It probably didn’t mean very much to the little boy, but he nodded again anyway and Harry tried to think of anything else helpful that he could say. He felt rather sad. He’d wanted to have a good last day with Teddy and it was already off to a bad start.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts and he got up to answer it. Severus was standing there, and he wordlessly presented Harry with a glass of milk.

“Oh, thank you,” said Harry, truly grateful.

Severus merely nodded at him and strode off down the hall. Harry watched him sweep around the corner and down the stairs out of sight.

“Is that... Severus?” Teddy asked in a small voice, as if Severus’s name was forbidden.

“Yeah. Lucky for us. No one’s getting past Severus, doesn’t matter how angry they are. And he’s brought you some milk, look.” He held up the glass and Teddy looked both interested and suspicious. Harry laughed. “It’s all right. I’ll try a bit to prove it’s not poisoned.” He dutifully sipped a little, and was grateful to note that whatever Severus had added to it was essentially tasteless.

They sat together in the quiet darkness as Teddy drank his milk, and the boy’s eyes were drooping again before he’d even finished the glass. Harry took it from him and laid him down gently on the mattress, covered him up with the thin sheets and kissed his forehead. He finished off the rest of the milk himself, and drifted off to sleep as the wind began to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone. I hope that everyone is staying safe wherever they are in the world. I've never been more grateful for fan fiction! 
> 
> I'm a total sucker for feedback so please don't hesitate to leave comments and kudos where you can <3 :D :D


	11. Packing Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Teddy spend their last day together for a while, and the next day Harry and Severus leave for Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! My apologies that the time between my updates has become longer - I'm back to work now. Also I know this is a bit of a filler chapter but if I didn't post it now I probably wouldn't for ages more, but at least it sets up for the rest of the fic!

Predictably, after his show of kindness, Severus was absent on Saturday. As it continued to rain throughout the day, Harry and Teddy spent most of it at Grimmauld Place, with the exception of a short morning visit to _Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes_ before the midday crowds flocked in. Teddy was noticeably quiet and rather clingy, and Harry knew it wasn’t just because he was leaving tomorrow.

“Didn’t I say goodbye to you just last night?” said Ron, as they emerged from the little office, but as usual he looked happy to see them. Harry explained to him about the nightmare incident under his breath while George showed Teddy some tiny, enchanted toy horses, and then he made a dash through the rain over to _Florean Fortescue’s_ (now run by his daughter Mabel) and returned with four ice creams.

The trip seemed to cheer Teddy up a little, but he still held Harry’s hand as the four of them ate their ice creams on the shop floor and chatted together.

“Who’s head of Gryffindor now?” George asked, catching a flake of chocolate before it melted off.

“I don’t know, actually,” Harry replied.

Ron, who had nearly finished his ice cream already, said, “You should do it, Harry. The kids would go mental.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably as he recalled Fred and George chanting, “We got Potter! We got Potter!” when he’d been sorted into Gryffindor. He knew he’d been a source of pride to his house while he’d been a student, but the idea of being so as a teacher just didn’t sit quite right with him. And besides, if he became Head of Gryffindor it would pitch him against Severus, which he was keen to avoid. He was still rather unhappy about Severus taking up the position as a head of house again, but he also understood why he wanted to. In theory, Slughorn would make a fine Head of Slytherin, particularly with his friendlier attitude towards the other houses, but the reality was that he was far too absorbed in his club and the students he deemed worthy of it. The Slytherins needed someone in their corner, especially now, and Severus was the best choice.

“Nah,” said Harry. “The position's already filled anyway, that much I do know.”

“But just think of all the _fun_ you’d have with Sir Cadogan!” said George.

Ron shrugged. “McGonagall managed.”

“That’s McGonagall though, isn’t it?” said Harry.

“Do you think _I’ll_ be in Gryffindor?” Teddy piped up anxiously.

“Of course you will, Teds,” said Ron. “Best house there is.”

“It doesn’t matter where you go, Teddy,” said Harry, giving his hand a squeeze.

Ron rolled his eyes. “Traitor.”

Afterwards, they said their goodbyes, and Harry saw George slip one of the mini horses into Teddy’s hand as he shook it solemnly.

They spent the rest of the day in the front room, playing board games until Teddy asked if they could watch something. Harry didn’t even think on it until Teddy chose _Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs_. When Teddy had been a baby, Harry purchased a few videos that he’d thought his godson might enjoy when he was older, although in truth _he’d_ also wanted to watch them for years himself. Dudley had always been more into science fiction than fantasy, no doubt to the relief of his parents, but Harry still remembered being abruptly sent to his cupboard when his cousin had demanded to watch _Pinocchio_. He remembered listening through his cupboard door as Aunt Petunia prefaced the viewing with, “Now, Diddums, you mustn’t get scared. None of this is real, it can’t hurt you.”

Right now, Harry wasn’t sure what logic to go on. It was one thing reassuring a child that what they were seeing was impossible, but quite another when you belonged to a magical world where, technically speaking, _anything_ was possible. And Dudley _had_ gotten scared, anyway. “That one might be a bit frightening, Teds,” he said cautiously.

“No, it isn’t,” said Teddy, frowning at the bright and cheerful image on the cover in his hands.

“Well, it _gets_ quite scary.”

“ _I_ won’t get scared.”

Harry bit his lip. “It’s just, with you having a nightmare and everything don’t you think you should pick something else?”

Teddy shook his head. “No.”

“Are you sure? What if you get more bad dreams?”

“I _won’t_. Anyway, I’ve seen it before.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “ – Have you?”

Teddy didn’t look at him. “Yes.”

“You know what happens, then?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re sure you won’t get scared?”

“ _Yes_.”

Harry relented and put the film on. Teddy did seem to like it, although when they reached the scene in the dark woods he casually shifted up on the sofa to sit closer to him. He watched with big eyes when Snow White bit the poisoned apple, and during the funeral scene he went very still and his hair turned white. Harry rubbed his back reassuringly, and Teddy didn’t resist, but said decisively, “I’m not scared.” At the end, he cheered and looked visibly relieved, but mercifully unscathed.

Andromeda came at five o’clock and the three of them had dinner together. Teddy didn’t want to tell his grandmother about the nightmare, and so Harry let her know when Teddy had gone to the toilet. Afterwards, Andromeda helped spell the dishes clean, and then handed over a good luck card that Teddy had made. It had a drawing of a Firebolt on it, with a mass of glitter and sequins shooting out of the tail end (and a few that had escaped elsewhere). Teddy was obviously extremely embarrassed about it, but Harry picked him up and gave his cheek a big kiss anyway. He felt a pang as he watched Andromeda gather up all their things, ready to leave, and realised this would be the last time he hugged Teddy for at least a couple of weeks. He hadn’t had to wait that long to see his godson since he’d finished his last school year and Teddy had been a baby.

“I’m really going to miss you,” he said to him, holding him close. Teddy wouldn’t look him in the eye, but he hugged him back tightly. “You’ll be good for your grandma, won’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Teddy,” laughed Andromeda, watching them fondly.

Finally, Harry passed Teddy over to her, and the pair Floo’d back to their house.

The next morning Harry completed the last of his packing; emptying his wardrobe and chest of drawers of what remained there and transferring it magically into his trunk. He also carefully slid Teddy's card between the pages of _Hogwarts, A History_ and placed it in the trunk on top of his pyjamas. He stripped the bed and put fresh sheets on, and laid out clean towels in each of the bathrooms. Next, he went to his desk and wrote a note for Ron and Hermione wishing them the best for the next few weeks, and explaining where he kept a few essentials. He then carefully began to place all his papers and some writing materials into his satchel.

There was a knock on the door, and Severus came in. “The Floo will be open at eleven o’clock,” he said.

“Great, thanks,” said Harry, smiling at him before casting a sealing charm over a bottle of ink. He spelled it into the satchel as well and looked back at him. “And thank you for helping out with Teddy the other night.”

Severus nodded. “Of course.”

Harry watched as he left, and listened to his footsteps returning to his bedroom. He knew better than to ask where he’d been the previous day, but wondered if that would begin to change now that – well, things were different. He busied himself by going through the house, checking that everything was clean and tidy. At one stage, he trapped a spider he found in the entrance hall for Ron’s sake, and released it outside.

Finally, at eleven o’clock, Harry shrunk his trunk and took it downstairs to the kitchen, where Severus was waiting for him by the fireplace, beside his own suitcase.

“Do you have everything?” Severus asked him.

“Yep,” said Harry. “You?”

Severus narrowed his eyes at him for that, but there was a hint of amusement there too. Before he could answer, there was a loud crack, and suddenly Kreacher stood before them next to the hearth, bowing low. Harry had persuaded the house elf to leave for Hogwarts early, finally convincing him with the insistence that there would be more work for him at the castle than at Grimmauld Place. He knew the elf still snuck back to do the odd bit of dusting, which he was hardly going to complain about, but he was glad he’d eventually agreed to go. Harry knew that it would devastate Kreacher if he freed him, but the reality was that he didn’t feel comfortable being waited on in the way Kreacher had been trained to do. He hoped that if Kreacher became attached enough to Hogwarts he might be persuaded to remain there, which would eliminate that particular issue if Harry ever hoped to sell the house one day.

“Masters,” rasped Kreacher, standing up as straight as his somewhat bent form would allow. “Shall Kreacher take your luggage to the castle?”

“Oh, thanks, Kreacher,” said Harry, handing over his now-small trunk as Severus did the same with his suitcase. “How are you?”

Kreacher held up the two pieces of baggage in remarkably strong arms. “The castle is big, but Kreacher is working hard and it is ready for the new year.”

Harry nodded, smiling awkwardly. Like most of his kind, Kreacher had never quite grasped the concept of expressing his wellbeing, but Harry felt it was important to keep making an effort with him. “I’m sure it’s great. We’ll see you there.”

Kreacher bowed again and said, “Masters.” There was another crack, and Kreacher and the luggage disappeared.

Harry grabbed the pot of Floo powder and held it out to Severus, who raised an eyebrow but took his handful of powder and went on ahead. Harry followed just a few seconds afterwards, and emerged from a stone fireplace into a large, octagonal room. He nearly tripped over the iron grate, but Severus steadied him.

“Thanks!” said Harry, and Severus gave him a look as though he would have liked to reprimand him for his clumsiness, but didn’t have the energy. Harry breathed in, and immediately recognised the pleasant smell of old wood, and whatever they varnished the floor with. There was another scent, too, one that had long convinced Harry that you could _smell_ magic if there was enough of it about. It was somehow both parts musty and fresh, and it confirmed one thing; they were back at Hogwarts.

In front of them was a comfortable-looking dove grey sofa and two matching armchairs. A worn, but still rather grand, circular rug lined most of the floor. There were four tall windows, each hung with navy blue drapes. In front of one of them sat a large writing desk, and between two stood a bookcase with a few volumes already sitting on its shelves. Most of the walls were bare, except for the unlit torches, a large mirror above the mantelpiece behind them, and a faded Latin inscription that wound its way just below the vaulted ceiling. To the right, there was an arched opening, which Harry recognised as the entrance to whichever corridor it led out to. Blocking it looked like the back of a large painting, most likely a portrait by the length of it. Arcing upwards from the right was a carved wooden staircase, which sat almost flush against the thick stone walls. Harry liked it, as he’d known he would.

Harry went over to the window right of the fireplace, and was delighted to find they had a view of the Quidditch Pitch. “What do you reckon?” he said over his shoulder.

“It looks sufficient.”

Harry grinned to himself, having expected the non-committal response. A crack made him look round, and there was Kreacher was standing in the middle of the room.

“Kreacher has put the Masters’ luggage upstairs," said the house elf.

“Great,” said Harry. ‘Thanks.”

“Shall Kreacher fetch the Masters some tea?”

“Please,” said Severus without looking round as he studied the books.

Kreacher bowed _very_ low this time, and disappeared again. Harry knew that he approved highly of Severus. He wasn’t sure if it was because Severus had that sort of air about him; an attitude Kreacher saw as befitting a ‘proper’ wizard, despite the fact that he was half-blood, or if he’d simply warmed to him.

Harry decided to investigate upstairs, and found it led up to another arched entryway, beyond which was three ancient-looking doors, each with a shiny brass handle. On the left hand side was a large bedroom, where he found Kreacher had placed his trunk and spelled it back to its proper size. Behind the middle door – the one that faced the staircase – was a bathroom decked out with fresh towels and soaps. On the right was another bedroom, and Harry stared at the suitcase at the foot of the bed, wondering what would happen if he took it and placed it beside his own trunk in the other room, until he heard Kreacher returning and thought better of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading as usual, I know lockdown's lifting in various places but do please keep as safe as you can out there :) :)


	12. Return To The Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professor McGonagall welcomes Harry and Severus back, and Harry pays Hagrid a visit.

Harry came back downstairs to find that Professor McGonagall had joined them. She looked much the same as she always had; no particular indications that she was now Headmistress on her apparel, but it would have been unnecessary anyway. Even during Harry’s school years, she had sometimes appeared to carry more outward authority than Dumbledore, and actually succeeding him hadn’t made her any less severe. She’d never really changed, and Harry found it reassuring.

“Severus,” she said with a warmth that belied her neutral countenance. “Harry. It’s good to see you both.”

“Minerva,” Severus acknowledged as Harry smiled at her.

Harry and Severus sat on the sofa, and Minerva took one of the armchairs as Kreacher served each of them their tea.

“How are you, Professor?” Harry asked. He couldn’t quite work up the nerve to call her by her given name just yet.

“Very well,” Minerva replied. “I trust the two of you are in good health?” 

She looked between the two of them dubiously, and Harry realised the question was just as much about the state of their affairs as it was about them individually. He blushed and nodded, not risking a glance at Severus. Minerva inclined her head, seeming to accept that response. “And I hope your accommodation suits?”

“It’s great,” said Harry, as Severus said, “Of course.”

“Good.” Minerva took a sip of tea and then placed the teacup onto the saucer with a decisive clink. “Aside from Severus’s return to the Defence post and the introduction of Cultural Studies, this looks to be an ordinary school year. However, security remains tight around Hogsmeade and the Quidditch pitch. There have been no causes for alarm over the summer, with the exception of some New Blood propaganda around the village, which was promptly dealt with. As with last year we have a drill for the third years and up, which someone will go through with you, Harry, for when you’re supervising excursions.” Harry nodded, and she continued. “Severus, I presume you intend to keep instructing the students with your drill? I think it helped their confidence a great deal.”

“Indeed,” said Severus.

“ _Your_ drill?” Harry asked, looking at him curiously over his cup.

“An emergency procedure for the students to follow should they find themselves separated from the group,” Severus explained, although there was a hint of disdain in his voice that implied he felt that any children who managed to lose their party had to be completely moronic.

“You should go through it with him, Severus,” Minerva said casually, before addressing Harry. “It includes a really quite remarkable use of _Protego_ , you know.”

“Yeah?” said Harry, shooting Severus a knowing glance.

“I’ll be sure to at some stage,” said Severus, and took a sip of tea.

“Very good,” said Minerva. “Harry, your classroom is on the first-floor, next to Muggle Studies. I’ll take you there in a moment if that suits?”

“Sure,” said Harry.

The three of them finished their tea and chatted idly, before they stood and Harry and Minerva headed towards the arched doorway.

“See you later,” Harry said to Severus, who nodded at him and disappeared up the stairs.

They emerged from behind the portrait of a demure young witch in blue robes, who nodded at Harry as the frame swung back into place, before returning to a large book she was reading. She reminded him a little bit of Hermione. He looked ahead of them and found they were in a long gallery over looking one of the courtyards, on about the fifth or sixth floor. It confirmed his suspicion that their quarters were partially situated in one of the larger towers.

“The password is 'vertigo',” said Professor McGonagall. 

Harry nodded. “Are any of the other staff here yet?” he asked her.

She shook her head. “They’ll be arriving tomorrow,” she replied as they turned right into a smaller corridor towards the Grand Staircase, passing the statue of an elderly wizard with a time turner, which he took note of.

Harry frowned as they arrived, and he gazed down into the cavern-like stairwell. “What will the Slytherins do if they need Severus?” he asked.

“The Floo,” replied Minerva. “It’s been rigged up so that they may alert him without intruding upon your quarters.”

Harry nodded, imagining in horror for a moment one of the students bursting in on him and Severus while they were kissing or worse. Some of the portraits greeted them as they made their way down, calling out, “Headmistress!” and “Mr Potter!” as they went. They both sent nods and little waves back at them, Minerva greeting some of them by name. When they reached the first floor, she led them along the hall and into a classroom with a small office towards the back. The room was light and clean, with dark wooden panelling about halfway up the walls and a fireplace at one side.

“I hope this will do?” said Minerva, watching as Harry wandered between the desks, looking around.

“It’s perfect!” said Harry. “Thank you.”

“ – How are things going with you and Severus?”

Harry hoped he wasn’t blushing as he peered out of the windows, which overlooked the lake. “It’s... actually okay,” he said tentatively, not wanting to jinx it.

He could practically feel Minerva raise an eyebrow. “I have already had this conversation with Severus, and I would not expect anything less from you, but I have to ensure that we are all in agreement,” she said, and Harry turned to face her. “You realise that any arguments or difficulties of a personal nature between the two of you must take place in private? That you must both try to keep your temper around the students?”

Harry was neither surprised nor offended by the questions. “Definitely," he said.

Minerva inclined her head, and then she looked almost sad. “That is not to say that you will be alone in this. If you need my support or advice please do not hesitate to come to me.”

“Thanks, I will.”

“Since the war – there are a few matters that have been brought to my attention, or perhaps I should say, made plain. I realise now that I should have made my stance on Severus’s past behaviour clearer. I should have intervened on your behalf more often.”

Harry shook his head, astonished by what he was hearing. “You were great, Professor. And I know I wasn't exactly rule-abiding, but you were always fair.”

“But he was not. I know that he made many sacrifices on our behalf – on _your_ behalf, but his treatment of you was often downright unkind, not to mention inappropriate.”

Harry swallowed. “He’s not like that anymore,” he said carefully. “Things are much better.”

“Nevertheless, it would be ignorant of me to expect you both to get along smoothly. If you need me to step in – ”

“I hope there won’t be a reason for you to. We’ve only had one fight in six months.”

Minerva’s eyes flashed in concern. “...May I ask what about?”

Harry shrugged. “I suppose we’d both kept a few things bottled up and it just sort of... exploded.”

“I hope it didn’t get physical?”

Harry coughed and turned away from her to look out of the window again. “We didn’t hex each other or anything if that’s what you mean.”

Minerva nodded again uneasily. “I must also remind you that many of the students will be curious about your relationship. Even without your part in it, they know all about Severus’s role in the war, and their parents will doubtless have voiced their opinions on your marriage. I will make an effort to keep them from prying, but you may find that gossip is rife.”

“Pretty normal, then,” said Harry with a wry smile.

Minerva’s own lips twitched. “Once we’re well into the school year I hope things will settle down.”

"Me too."

They said their goodbyes on the stairs, and Harry made his way down to the Entrance Hall. He paused when he saw the names listed in bronze upon the wall by the closed doors to the Great Hall, and his eye sought out those familiar to him before he could stop himself:

_Lavender Brown_

_Colin Creevey_

_Remus Lupin_

_Nymphadora Tonks_

_Fred Weasley_

Five years was nothing, thought Harry. He still could not believe they were gone.

He turned away before he began thinking too much, and smiled affectionately as he imagined Tonks spluttering indignantly at being remembered by her full name. He pulled one of the huge entrance doors open, and stepped outside, taking in the familiar view. He followed the path around, and then down as it began to slope into the hill, listening to the warm wind in the trees, and the odd bird flapping its wings as it took off from the castle roof. He pondered over Minerva’s words to him; ‘there are a few matters that have been brought to my attention’ and ‘I should have intervened on your behalf more often’. Had she just been referring to his relationship with Severus? There had been something about the almost fraught look on her face; the downturn of her lip that had made it seem as though she had more; so much more to say.

Harry walked on, speculating about things until the little wooden hut came into view and distracted him, and he raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun for a better look. The door was open, and as Harry approached, there was a scrambling noise from within and he heard Fang barking.

“What’s that, Fang?” he heard Hagrid saying, and then his big, shaggy head popped out and he spotted him. “Harry!”

“Hi, Hagrid,” said Harry, and allowed himself to be picked up and clasped to a vast chest the moment he was within Hagrid’s reach. He hugged him back, used to the enthusiastic affection as his friend had been this way since the war.

Hagrid finally put him down and invited him in as Fang whimpered until Harry pet him.

“Tea?” Hagrid asked him.

“No thanks, I’ve just had one.”

“Lemonade, then!”

Harry courteously accepted a huge glass of what would likely be lemonade sourer even than Aunt Petunia’s, and held it in his hands as he sat at the table, wishing he’d just accepted a tea instead. They caught each other up with Ron and Hermione’s engagement (which Hermione had already told Hagrid about), and how Grawp was getting along living in a cave somewhere in the surrounding forest, and would be assisting Hagrid with some of his work in the grounds.

“His language improves every day,” said Hagrid proudly. “And he’s in contact with his old tribe. Turns out they heard all about his part in the battle and were impressed.”

“That’s brilliant, Hagrid,” said Harry. “Do you think he’d go back to them?”

Hagrid hesitated. “...I dunno. I’d miss him if he did, but it might be the best thing fer him. If he went back, maybe he’d make friends properly like, but we’ll see. He’s not said anythin’ about it.” The pair of them went quiet for a moment, and then he said, “Everythin’ all right with you and Professor Snape?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Harry gave what he hoped was a convincing smile.

Unlike everyone else, Hagrid didn’t question him further or even give him a doubting stare. _He_ seemed content to take Harry’s word for it. Harry knew he still held a stable respect for Severus, probably greatly influenced by Dumbledore’s lead and Harry couldn’t fault him for it. Hagrid’s life might have been very difficult indeed if it hadn’t been for Dumbledore’s intervention. Minerva respected Severus, he knew, but as Headmistress she was clearly unwilling to overlook certain behaviours that Dumbledore had.

Hagrid gave an accepting sort of shrug and poured himself more lemonade. “How’s Teddy?”

Harry felt a pang as he thought of his godson. “He’s really well. Going back to school tomorrow, which I think he’s excited about. We’re both a bit sad we’re not going see each other as much.”

Hagrid’s eyes filled with tears. “Bless him. Poor little mite.”

Slightly alarmed, Harry leant over to pat his arm comfortingly.

  
“Sorry,” said Hagrid. “Keep thinkin’ of his mum and dad. S’just like you when you was small, isn’t it?”

“Teddy’s all right. He’s got a lot of people in his life who love him.”

“Yeah... yeah.”

Harry bit his lip, wondering if Hagrid was also remembering his own childhood and how his mother had abandoned him. He hoped his comment hadn’t reminded him of the fact, and decided to try and distract him. “He’s annoyed because he wants a real broom.”

Hagrid chuckled wetly. “They’re all the same at that age.”

“You should have seen the look on his face when I told him first years can’t play.”

Harry ended up staying for some stodgy (but very tasty) cheese sandwiches, and the pair of them took Fang out for a walk in the sunshine. Later, he managed to find his way back to his and Severus’s quarters by recalling the statue of the old wizard, and went to his bedroom to unpack his belongings.

“You were a while,” came Severus’s voice from the doorway, and Harry glanced up from the chest of drawers he was figuring out how to organise.

“I went to see Hagrid,” he replied, and spelled all his trousers into the bottom drawer.

Severus walked into the bedroom towards him, and Harry wondered if he was angry for not telling him where he was going before he left, but then the man stopped in front of him, looking decidedly _not_ angry. “Glad to be back?” he drawled.

Harry peered up at him, feeling himself starting to react to the increasingly familiar look of desire in Severus’s eyes. It was as though his body had become attuned to Severus’s presence; as though one look was enough to get him aching with desire, the barest hint of a caress enough to get his cock hard and leaking. “Yes,” he whispered. “You?”

“Mm. The company is much improved this time around.”

“Didn’t know you’d become so fond of Kreacher. He’ll be thrilled.”

“You are still insolent, however.”

Harry grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everyone! Keep safe and happy <3


	13. The Feast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry prepares his classroom, and attends the Welcoming Feast.

The next day Harry and Severus had breakfast at the small table that had appeared in their quarters, and then went to prepare their classrooms. Harry organised his little office first; placing all his writing supplies in and around the desk, and putting out the card that Teddy had made for him. He also placed some framed photographs of his friends and family around the room; a picture of his mother and father on the mantelpiece alongside one of him, Ron and Hermione during their second year, and more photos on the walls; many from school before or after the war, and he even added one that Arthur Weasley had covertly taken of him and Severus just after they’d gotten married. Severus looked brooding and rather thin in the picture, but a few weeks into the bond had improved his health enough for him to walk, and Arthur had suggested they get a picture of them together in case the papers began claiming it was all a ruse. Harry felt it was important to have at least one likeness of his husband if he had photos of everyone else in his life, and not only to stop a few tongues wagging.

Harry stared at the photograph. They’d gone to bed in their separate rooms last night, and he couldn't help but be disappointed. He resolved to try and get Severus to stay; if they had sex _after_ dinner surely he could entice him to remain by his side, especially now the nights were growing cooler?

After several minutes, Harry finally unwrapped a favourite picture of Teddy and Andromeda and placed it on his desk. Satisfied for now, Harry made a mental note to get a rug and some curtains for the office, and went to have a look at the classroom.

He hung a couple of Muggle posters on the walls, and some copies of famous paintings; Wizard and Muggle alike. He put some textbooks he and Hermione had carefully selected into one of the cupboards, along with some spare stationary. He looked over the space happily, with just a hint of trepidation, and got to work on laying everything out for his first class the following day.

Wilfrid arrived at Hogwarts at about lunchtime, tapping on the window of the classroom expectantly. He’d never liked being in a cage and so Harry had just given up trying to get him in one for travelling. He suspected the bird would choose to spend most of his time at the Owlery, and so he gave him a treat and an affectionate scratch behind the head, and watched him fly off again.

He didn’t see Severus in their quarters when he returned, and assumed he was still organising his own classroom. After eating a sandwich dutifully presented to him by Kreacher, he grabbed his Firebolt from his trunk and headed down towards the Quidditch Pitch. It had been a while since he’d flown, he realised, nearly four months. He supposed that other things had taken precedence in the mean time, but it was the longest he’d been without flying since the war. As he kicked off from the grass, Harry grinned at the sensation of being in the air again, letting it take him completely as he rose high above the stands and hoops.

Some time later, Hagrid waved him down, and they went on another stroll around the grounds, the Firebolt floating along beside Harry as they went. Hagrid talked excitedly about his class outline for the third years and up, still the tiniest bit put out that McGonagall insisted on checking everything before they were allowed to go ahead. Harry, meanwhile, privately thought that Dumbledore had to have been mad _not_ to.

Afterwards, they went back to Hagrid’s for a cup of tea, and at four o’clock Harry returned to his quarters for a shower. After scrubbing himself thoroughly and washing his hair, he left the bathroom with a towel around his waist, and went to his bedroom.

“Enjoyed your flight?”

Harry looked over his shoulder at Severus and smiled. “Oh, you saw me?”

Severus advanced on him, and Harry got an immediate sensation of déjà-vu. “I saw you,” he confirmed in his silkiest voice. He kissed him soundly, running his hands over Harry’s bare chest and then down to pull the towel away.

Harry hummed into the kiss as he felt the towel pool at his feet. He began undoing the buttons on Severus’s shirt; he’d grown used to it now and knew how to work the tricky little catches.

Eventually, Severus assisted him by taking his shirt off himself, revealing his pale torso. It had occurred to Harry when he’d first seen Severus naked that the man had been only thirty-one when they’d met. It seemed absurdly young, compared to the image of the man he’d built up in his mind. Severus was still fit and slim, but the passing of time was marked here and there; a few grey hairs among the dark ones on his body to match those coming through on his head, and the many scars littering his body. A few of these old marks were now faded to white, but some would always be obvious. The Dark Mark would always reside on his arm, though it was now faded and stationary. Severus’s neck had healed well, but the flesh there was sunken in places, the scarring dark and oddly twisted. Harry mouthed at it gently now; conscious that being too rough might hurt him, or bring back unwanted memories. Severus groaned and allowed the attentions for a few moments as he skimmed his palms down Harry’s back to grab his arse.

After a few moments, Severus carefully pushed Harry down onto the bed, rubbing a hand over his balls and then bringing it up to tease his cock to hardness. Harry moaned, pushing his hips into the contact. He opened his eyes in time to see Severus smirk down at him, before standing up straight to remove the rest of his clothes. Harry watched as more sallow skin was exposed, and wondered how many more times he would have to lie about – or omit the details of – his relationship with this man. They certainly wouldn’t have the time to have sex during the day in the school week – or at least every day. He reminded himself to check both of their schedules for free periods.

Harry sighed as Severus returned above him, muttering a spell and pressing slick fingers into him. He automatically lifted a leg and Severus grabbed his ankle and moved it onto his shoulder. Severus leaned down, holding his leg in place, and they kissed as he continued preparing Harry.

“Severus,” gasped Harry against his lips when he’d had enough. “Now.”

There was a grunt of acknowledgement, and Severus carefully removed his fingers so that he could adjust Harry’s position, and align his cock up with his entrance. He pressed in, and Harry panted lightly as he relaxed and let it happen. Severus’s forehead came to rest on Harry’s collarbone, and he remained there until he was fully seated inside. Nearly bent in half and loving every second of it, Harry stroked up and down Severus’s spine in appreciation. Finally, Severus let out a growl, and pushed up on his elbows on either side of Harry’s head as he thrust forwards.

Harry shut his eyes and opened his legs just a little wider to give Severus more room as the man pulled out and thrust back in.

“Ah!” gasped Harry, and tightened his grip as Severus repeated the movement; once, twice, three times and then a fourth, and then it became a proper rhythm, the mattress creaking slightly beneath their combined weight. This was rapidly becoming one of his favourite pastimes, he thought distantly as Severus chuffed out heavy breaths above him. He brought his other leg to link around Severus’s middle, and together they moved, faster and faster, until Harry felt the climax begin to build, and he reached down between them to pump himself to completion. Severus meanwhile, sped up the grinding of his hips, and finally came groaning, _“Harry... Harry.”_ into Harry’s chest.

After another, quicker shower, which mostly involved the pair of them snogging in the bath tub as Harry (to his glee) massaged shampoo through Severus’s hair, they dried each other off and dressed, and made their way downstairs. A few of the staff and ghosts were milling about in the Great Hall when they arrived.

“Harry, my boy!” called Professor Slughorn as he shuffled over.

“Hello, Professor,” said Harry, shaking his hand.

“Horace, please, I insist.”

“All right, Horace.”

Slughorn looked just above Harry and his eyes widened in recognition. “Ah, and Severus!”

“Horace,” Severus greeted courteously. Harry looked between the pair of them as they too shook hands, and found it was difficult to picture them ever having been teacher and student. Slughorn was just so... bumbling in comparison, despite being a fine Potions Master.

“You’re looking remarkably well, remarkably well,” Horace was saying, looking Severus up and down.

Severus bowed his head. “My health is much improved.”

“Oh, yes, and I’ve heard all about your marriage, you both have my congratulations! That's another two of my finest to have become a couple. I think it must be five marriages within the Slug Club now, or perhaps six?”

If Slughorn suspected that their union was related to Severus’s miraculous recovery, which Harry thought he must on _some_ level _,_ he was clearly far more interested in playing along. The man continued to name his students that he could recall had gotten married, until Professor Sprout interrupted and she greeted Harry and Severus.

“Your friend Neville will be visiting us in October,” she said to Harry cheerfully.

“Really?” asked Harry. “He didn’t say the last time I saw him.”

Sprout shook her head. “He won’t be here all the time, but I’ll be taking him on as a sort of apprentice if you like. He’s really very talented, that boy.”

Harry beamed at her. “He is.”

At that moment, Professor McGonagall called, “The students will be arriving in just a moment, everyone, if you’d like to take your seats.”

Harry looked about them and realised a few more people had joined their number, including Professors Flitwick and Vector. Someone laid a hand on his arm, and he looked up to see Severus nod in the direction of the staff table. There were place cards along it, and Harry was pleased to find he’d been seated in between Hagrid, who was still bringing the first-years over, and Severus. As he sat down, he looked out across the Great Hall properly, and felt a shiver go down his spine.

The hall barely resembled the bleak space it had been during the war, and was back to its warm, welcoming glory. He’d come to terms with the room during his final year at Hogwarts, when he and most of the other students had also been helping in the rebuild of several areas of the castle.

But still. Harry looked down into the centre of the floor, and swallowed.

He’d killed Voldemort right there.

There was thankfully no marker there, nor any statues or paintings, and Harry hoped it would stay that way until after his own death. Somewhere in here, Harry could no longer remember, was a small, simple plaque that read:

_Victory_

_2nd May, 1998_

“Are you all right?” Severus asked him quietly, and Harry understood, when he looked into his black eyes, that Severus knew exactly what he was thinking about.

“Yeah,” he replied, smiling at him. He had that glorious satisfaction from earlier still lingering in his bones, and he focused on that to sidetrack his trail of thought.

A few minutes later, the students began filing in beneath the floating candles, and went to their respective house tables. He noticed a few of them nudging each other and pointing at him and Severus, and he blushed and tried to avoid looking any of them directly in the eye. When they were all seated, Professor McGonagall stood and raised a hand for silence, which had an immediate effect.

“Please be seated and silent for the arrival of the first-years,” she said.

The first-years were led inside by a rather tall, striking witch Harry supposed to be Professor Shahidi; the Deputy Headmistress and teacher of the Study of Ancient Runes. The newcomers looked scared and so very tiny, Harry could hardly believe he’d once been in their shoes.

Professor Shahidi produced the familiar, three-legged stool and grotty old hat, and the Sorting Ceremony began after the hat finished its song.

Every child that came forwards to put the hat on looked so _nervous_ , and Harry hoped it was simply because this was happening in front of an audience and not because any of them had pressure from their families to go into a particular house. He knew that was probably wishful thinking, however. At least the children were guaranteed to be put where they wanted. As a boy named Damian Woods was sorted into Gryffindor, he could hear Nearly-Headless Nick exclaiming, “Absolutely wonderful! Just excellent!”

“Eveleigh, Michelle!” called Professor Shahidi.

A mousy-haired little girl stumbled forwards, and Harry recognised her as one of the twins from Madame Malkin’s. She was sorted into Hufflepuff, and her brother, Richard, into Ravenclaw. He watched Michelle give Richard the thumbs up when he sat down with the Ravenclaws and looked over at her rather tearfully.

Harry turned to Severus over the applause and said only half-jokingly, “You have to be extra nice to the Eveleigh twins.”

Severus raised an eyebrow and said, “How so?”

“Because you’ve already scared them, and now they’re separated from each other.”

“Indeed? And how will you monitor my _niceness?_ ”

Harry smirked. “I’ll get the children to watch you and report your every move back to me.”

“That would be quite the network of spies.”

“Cheer up. You’ve got your Legillimency.”

Harry noticed then that the young man on Severus’s other side was listening to the pair of them bemusedly. Harry nodded at him, and he politely returned the gesture with a smile, although he still looked confused as he returned his attention to the Sorting. Harry almost forgot this exchange when Hagrid arrived and sat next to him, making the dinner service rattle slightly. He grinned up at him and looked out front again.

After the ceremony, Minerva stood up again, as everyone settled. “Welcome back to Hogwarts everyone,” she said in a clipped yet sincere tone. “We are pleased to welcome our newest students, and to see all of those returned from last year. We look forward to this school term, and expect all of you to make the most of your time here and do your very best. For the benefit of our first-years, and those in need of _reminding_ , the Forbidden Forest is strictly out of bounds to all students. This is a staple school rule, and _not_ a challenge.” She glared out across the hall, and Harry just about managed to keep his face straight as she continued. “You may be aware that this year has seen an influx of New Blood propaganda being spread around various public spaces.” Minerva raised a piece of parchment with a familiar symbol of a flame and eye crossed over on it. “If you see any material sporting this insignia and the associated message, or anyone promoting it, please report them to a member of staff immediately. The Ministry has made it very clear that they do not support this group, and Hogwarts will similarly not tolerate its presence.” There were a few mutterings amongst the students, but they fell quiet again as Minerva flicked her wrist and the parchment disappeared into thin air. “Now, onto better things. We are delighted to welcome back Professor Snape, who will be taking up his role as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.” Minerva indicated Severus with an outstretched hand, and there was a round of applause.

Harry was glad to see students from every table clapping. He knew that Severus’s role in the war was now infamous, but he also hoped it was a sign that his husband’s mood and teaching methods had improved after being refocused on his favourite subject.

“And joining out staff for the first time, Professor Potter, who will be teaching the new Cultural Studies.”

There were a few loud cheers throughout the hall, along with some intrigued whispers amongst the clapping. Harry smiled and inclined his head to them all, hoping he wouldn’t disappoint as a teacher. “Professor Potter” sounded incredibly weird, but he supposed he’d have to get used to it.

“Thank you for your attention,” said Minerva. “Please, everyone, enjoy the feast.”

The dishes were suddenly piled high with food, and Minerva sat down again.

“This never gets old,” said Harry, and began loading his plate with all his favourite things.

“It _is_ still Potter, then?” said a voice, and Harry looked up at the young wizard again. He was very good-looking, with thick, dark brown hair and hazel eyes.

Severus rolled his eyes at being spoken over and sat back in his chair slightly. “Harry, this is Professor Alec Webb, the Transfiguration teacher and Head of Gryffindor,” he drawled. “And this is Professor Harry Potter, my husband, and saviour of the wizarding world.”

Harry bit his lip at Severus's antics, and nodded at Professor Webb, who had gone rather pink.

“Of course," said Professor Webb. "It’s very good to meet you, Harry. Wonderful thing you did, writing those articles, I mean.”

“Oh, thank you,” said Harry awkwardly.

“And you, Severus. I trust you’re better now?”

“Obviously,” replied Severus stiffly.

Harry felt rather uncomfortable as he began to eat. There was something rather off about the way Severus and Professor Webb were with each other; a certain frostiness that implied some sort of past dealings. He wouldn’t have expected anything less between the heads of Gryffindor and Slytherin, but somehow he wondered if _that_ wasn’t the issue. Webb’s blushing had seemed more angry than embarrassed, and he seemed quite a forward man. Harry wouldn’t follow up on his question. He didn’t think he’d ever want to change his last name, and the very idea of suggesting Severus adopt the name Potter in any capacity was funny, but not funny enough to actually try out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone still reading! Wish you all the best <3


	14. Harry's First Class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry teaches his first class at Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much again to all my readers, you're keeping me going! Hope everyone's staying safe. <3

Harry awoke with a start. He’d dreamt about Ripper the dog chasing him through the Dursleys’ house and out along Privet Drive; Aunt Marge’s voice bellowing orders down the street, commanding her pet to tear Harry to shreds.

He could hear water running in the bathroom, and sat up in the low light to grab his alarm clock. It was ten minutes to seven. Thankfully he hadn’t overslept, and so he sat there for a while, waiting for his heart rate to calm. He heard the water turn off, and after a few minutes, Severus exiting the bathroom. Harry gave himself a little shake, and got out of bed. He had a quick shower, shaved, did his teeth, and then returned to put on the robes he’d laid out for himself the night before, knowing he’d have dawdled over the decision if he hadn’t. He was anxious, he realised, as he gazed at himself in the mirror as he made an attempt to flatten his hair.

He joined Severus on the staircase, and together they made their way out of their quarters and down towards the Great Hall. They entered via the staff entrance and took up the same places they’d had the night before. Harry could feel many of the students peering up at them, and distracted Severus from shooting responding glares by offering him some toast. He glanced over in the direction of Professor Webb, half expecting him to greet them or attempt more questions, but found the man was currently engaged in conversation with Madam Hooch. Harry began buttering his own slices of toast, re-examining in his mind the possible reasons for Severus and Webb’s animosity. He knew he might be over thinking it; that it could have been anything from a few ugly Quidditch matches between their respective houses, to just basic, mutual dislike between the two men. But he had to consider, as he’d done so after he and Severus had first had sex, that Severus’s confidence in the bedroom had to suggest some level of experience. And Webb was handsome, confident, and had worked with him for two solid years before he became ill. Webb could easily be a contender for an old dalliance of Severus’s. And Harry, even before they’d started this thing between them, no longer saw his husband through the filter of childhood dislike, and could understand the allure the man held.

Was he jealous, Harry wondered? It felt strange to think of Severus being with someone else before they were married, but then... this marriage was still just a means to an end, wasn’t it? They might have discovered some level of agreement, and the sex was unreal, but nothing else had been said. And perhaps it only felt strange because Severus had never seemed to have any romantic inclinations at all. Imagining him with someone else _now_ , however, was quite another matter. Harry reminded himself that he was sitting next to an extremely powerful Legilimens, and that thinking on this too much would only bring trouble. He reached for the scrambled eggs, hoping Severus hadn’t noticed his behaviour.

Whatever the issue between Severus and Webb, it _couldn’t_ have been public knowledge. There was no way Minerva would have sat the two next to each other if it had been that serious.

Halfway through his breakfast, Harry risked a quick once over of the students. When his eye found the Slytherin table, he remembered when he’d used to do so and always thought they looked cold and unpleasant. He wondered how much of that had been affected by what he’d been told about the house and its members, and later, from his dislike of Malfoy and Severus. Now, they all just so young to him it seemed absurd to judge anything based on a few glances. There _were_ a couple of slightly haughty-looking individuals, but Harry reasoned that Percy Weasley could have given them a run for their money. He was curious if any of them, and not just the Slytherins, might resist his teachings, or be outright offended by them. But, he supposed, that was why his class involved more discussion and reason than dates and memorisation; it centred around a contentious subject. It couldn’t _all_ be easy.

  
“Who do you have first?” he asked Severus.

“Third-years, Slytherin and Ravenclaw,” Severus replied.

“Intimidating combination.”

“Yes, I’ll have to dumb everything down quite a bit for the others.”

Harry gave him a withering look and Severus merely smirked at him. “So – do you think those two houses tend to get on all right?”

“I would say, generally speaking, yes. Or, I should say they _work_ together well.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“ – It could be down temperament, if you take the house character traits seriously.”

“I used to. I mean, it’s not that I don’t believe in them at all, but I also keep seeing more and more exceptions.”

Severus nodded. “Miss Granger, for one.”

“Yeah – she was always plenty brave, but she could have done just as well in – well, any house, actually, it’s Hermione.” Harry lowered his voice. “Do you know if you’ve got any Muggleborn Slytherins?”

Severus inclined his head. “Two. Although I don’t yet know about the first-years.”

Harry nodded. He wanted to ask Severus how he thought they’d get on, but he stopped himself, afraid that it might come out sounding accusatory if he did.

Severus looked him up and down in a way that made him hot under the collar. “And who gets the honour of being your first class?”

“I’ve got second-year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. I’m sort of interested to see what teaching Slytherin with Hufflepuff will be like.”

Severus smirked again. “The marks will speak for themselves.”

“Good job I’m not pitching them against each other,” said Harry sternly. He scratched the back of his hand absentmindedly. “Some of the best contributors to my work were former Hufflepuffs. They all seem to have a unique perspective of the whole thing.”

“It doesn’t surprise me. Helga Hufflepuff’s very outlook on life was... casual, to say the least.”

“ _Accepting_ , you mean.” Severus shrugged, and Harry continued, “A lot of Hufflepuffs said they felt pretty overlooked while they were here. Maybe that’s why they’re a more tolerant house, I don’t know.”

“They also have less of a competitive streak – there isn’t the bad blood between their house and the others as there is between Gryffindor and Slytherin. The less competitive you are, the less attention you command.”

Harry nodded, intrigued that Severus had any thoughts on the matter at all, and Severus’s black eyes dipped to glance at his lips. Harry became almost nervous, trying to stop himself from doing the same thing, before reminding himself that there was no way the man would jump him in front of the entire student and teaching body. He was probably just imagining how lustful Severus looked, anyway. They’d both been too full and sleepy for sex the night before, and so unfortunately Harry hadn’t been able to instigate his plan to get Severus to spend the night with him, but he wondered if Severus was regretting that they hadn’t taken the opportunity, too.

When they’d finished, both men stood and walked the short distance to the Grand Staircase.

“Good luck,” said Severus, as they parted ways on the first floor.

Harry smiled at him. “You too,” he said, and resolved not to think about sex for as long as he could manage.

At ten to nine, the first of Harry’s students filed into the classroom, looking about the place uncertainly before turning their attention to him.

A pair of pink-faced, wide-eyed Ravenclaw girls hesitantly wandered over to sit at the front, sticking close together as though it had taken every ounce of courage for them to do so. He gave them both an encouraging smile, but it seemed to make them blush even deeper, so he stopped. The whole thing reminded him of his first DA class in the Room of Requirement, and he hoped the lack of action in Cultural Studies wouldn’t work against him.

“Good morning, everyone,” he said, when each desk was finally occupied. “Let me know when I call your name.”

He took the register, finding everyone present and then placed the scroll on his desk.

“Good morning – again.” Harry swallowed. “I’m Professor Potter, and welcome to your first Cultural Studies class.” The second-years just blinked up at him, awestruck as though expecting him to start performing acrobatics or something. “You probably have a lot of questions, and I do owe you an explanation,” he said. “Some of you might have an idea of what this class is about already, but let’s start from the top. Hogwarts is one of the most magical places in the world, and barring a few practices it hasn’t really changed all that much in a thousand years. But within the school, and throughout the Wizarding world, we actually have a melting pot of different experiences and cultures, and that’s never really been examined as part of the syllabus before.” Harry walked around to stand in front of his desk. “So, Muggle Studies, which is an optional subject from third year, looks at how Muggles live and explores some of their history. What it _doesn’t_ do is look at the Muggleborn experience of joining the Wizarding world, nor does it draw any comparisons with those born into a magical family and raised within the magical community, or even partly raised there. It’s never really been discussed in education, and it occurred to me and a few others that we can’t expect there to be understanding between those of different backgrounds if there was no interest _in_ understanding. And that’s really what is at the core of this class.”

The class remained quiet; the children just staring, but when no one protested or threw anything, he went on.

“Now, that’s not to say that there’s never been good relationships between students of different upbringings and values. It’s just that up until now, they could basically seek out that kind of information if they wanted to... but _that_ was more on the side of Muggleborn students knowing more about magical culture. Of course they’d find plenty of reading material for that, and Hogwarts _is_ a magical community, albeit a small-scale one. But in terms of Wizarding children knowing more about Muggle backgrounds, they’ve more or less relied on asking their fellow Muggleborn students about it, and again, that really depends on there being interest in knowing. So, as you can imagine it’s always been fairly uneven, and very much reliant on the students to chase up themselves. So, I thought a good place to start would be by talking about what happened when you all received your Hogwarts letters. Just out of interest, how many of you didn’t know magic existed just over a year ago?”

Several hands went into the air, a couple more hesitant than others.

Harry nodded. “So already, your experience was very different to the rest of your classmates’. Thank you.” The hands went back down again. “What I’ll get you to do – those of you who feel comfortable, is just to tell us what happened when you got your letter. How it made you feel, whether you’d been waiting for it, what happened next... That kind of thing. Please raise your hand if you’d like to talk.”

A rather burly Gryffindor boy with wavy blond hair put his hand up first, so Harry nodded at him. “Mr – Woolf, is it?”

“Yes, sir,” said Edmund Woolf proudly.

“Go on.”

Edmund shrugged. “Well – I expected it. It’s always sort of been in my plan, you know?”

Harry smiled. “Yes.”

“I was pleased, though. Sort of surprised, too.”

“Surprised?”

“No – relieved. You always think, ‘What if I don’t get my letter?’ don’t you?” There was some nervous tittering, and Edmund continued. “My parents said I was being ridiculous, and they were just as pleased when I got the letter.”

“Did you feel a bit pressured to be accepted here?” Harry asked him.

“No... maybe? I mean, I knew I wasn’t a Squib, but you always worry, don’t you?”

“Thank you, Mr Woolf. We won’t get onto it now, but we will be discussing Squibs later on.”

Woolf and a few others shifted uncomfortably, but a couple more students put their hands up.

Steadily, the children became bolder. More hands were raised, and each student had something slightly different to add to the picture. It occurred to Harry early on that he should have sat everyone in a circle, and he made a note on a bit of parchment to consider it for other lessons centred on talks. When there were no longer any more hands in the air, Harry beamed at them all and said, “Thanks for sharing, everyone. Each one of you has touched upon a subject that we’re going to be looking at in this class. We’ll have discussions, we’ll be looking at some Muggle culture, some Wizarding culture, we’ll do a bit of history – ” Several children groaned. Harry laughed. “Glad you’re honest. And _you’ll_ be glad to know that at this stage in your education I’m not going to overload you with tons of homework on top of what you’re already doing.” There were a few relieved sighs from the class and Harry grinned. “There will be readings, though, and other things for you to do. Throughout this year I want you to observe what you can about your experience at Hogwarts.”

“Sir?” said a small voice, and Harry looked into the big brown eyes of one of the little Ravenclaw girls who had sat at the front.

Harry retrieved the register. “Yes, er – Miss Phillips?”

“Sir,” she said breathlessly. “What about _your_ letter?”

Harry blinked, caught off-guard. “ – My letter?”

“Your Hogwarts letter. Were you happy?”

“...I was happy, yeah.” Eventually, Harry thought. “Really happy.” He wanted to give her a better answer, but he _couldn’t_ reveal the finer details of his upbringing. It would get everywhere, and besides, he doubted most people would believe it.

“But he’d have expected it,” scoffed Edmund. He looked at Harry. “Wouldn’t you, sir?”

Harry opened his mouth, closed it, and then just smiled. “Well, like you say, it’s still somehow a nice surprise, isn’t it?” There was some more laughter, and he turned back to Miriam Phillips. “I was thrilled to get my letter,” he said to her kindly. “It’s one of my happiest memories, actually.”

Miriam went an even deeper shade of pink than Harry had seen yet, but she didn’t seem disappointed with his answer.

For the rest of the class they looked at the process of a student beginning their magical education, taking two examples in particular from their discussion; Edmund Woolf’s, a half-blood wizard raised completely within the magical community in York, and Caitlyn O’Carroll’s, a Muggleborn girl from County Tipperary, whose family had thought they were being taken for a ride when Professor Shahidi had come to their house to explain everything. O’Carroll spoke very fondly of her parents, but it was pretty clear that initially (and understandably) they had been frantic at the idea of parting with their daughter to an institution and life unknown to them.

When the class ended, Harry noted with some hope, that several of the students looked disappointed, and he handed them out a small questionnaire for them to complete for the following week. “This isn’t a test or anything,” he reassured them. “But if you can just answer these questions about your experiences so far at the school, we can use them in our next class. They don’t have to be long answers. A sentence ideally, but it can be yes or no if that works with the question. And thanks, everyone. I’ve really enjoyed my first lesson.”

To his surprise, there was a smattering of applause, and then it was _his_ turn to start blushing.


	15. Muggle-Raised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry teaches his next classes, and gains an insight into the Post-War Hogwarts education.

Harry found himself getting into the swing of things for his next class. The second-year Hufflepuffs and Slytherins were just as interesting as the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws had been. He noticed that three of the Slytherins didn’t raise their hands to contribute to the Hogwarts letter stories as opposed to one Hufflepuff, but they still listened to their classmates with rapt attention, and there didn’t seem to be any unhappiness. Harry wondered if any of them might be one of the Muggleborns Severus knew about, or perhaps their families were stridently pureblood and they’d been advised not to participate if they could help it. Or maybe they were just shy. Either way, Harry took note of their names and decided to keep track of their progress without being obvious about it.

Afterwards, the fifteen-minute break allowed Harry time to move all the desks out of the way and arrange the chairs in a circle, before sitting down with a cup of tea and biscuit held out to him by a determined-looking Kreacher. He thought about Severus; wondering how his double lesson had gone and whether he was in his element yet, talking about hexes or ghouls or other horrors. He guiltily found himself imagining being one of his students again, and knew it would never work. One disapproving look from the man and Harry would be squirming in his seat for entirely different reasons from before the war. He made himself stop that train of thought before he got himself into trouble, and ate another biscuit.

The next class was the fourth year Slytherins and Gryffindors. As they entered, they already seemed alarmingly bigger than the second-years, and they looked around the room just a little bit more closely before taking their seats in the circle.

Harry was glad he’d essentially memorised his spiel for the introduction, as he repeated it more or less word for word for the third time that morning after taking the register.

Once he’d finished, immediately a hand went up.

“Yes, Mr – ?”

“Thompson, sir,” said the tall, lanky boy. “Is it true you were raised by Muggles?”

Harry nodded. “It is, yes.” He was reminded of the awkwardness earlier that morning, and chided himself for not foreseeing the issue of his not having known he was a wizard come up before now. Anyone who read the _Daily Prophet_ or knew someone who did would also know he'd grown up with Muggles, but he felt it was important to keep wraps on how that had actually worked out.

Lewis Thompson shot a knowing glance at one of the Slytherins called Orpheus Askew; a large boy who nevertheless looked as though he still had a lot of growing to do, who rolled his eyes and put his hand up.

“Yes, Mr Askew?” said Harry, pointing at him.

“But I mean – weren’t you given _some_ magical instruction before Hogwarts?” Orpheus asked. “I mean – you’re _Harry Potter_.”

Harry laughed. “I know my name, Mr Askew,” he said. “But no – I wasn’t.”

Orpheus stared at him incredulously. “So you didn’t know _any_ spells?”

“Apart from what I’d glanced at in my text books. My relatives didn’t know the magical world at all, so it was all new to me when I arrived.”

“You’d think you’d have been trained up!”

The red-haired girl next to Orpheus elbowed him then, and Harry just about heard her hiss the word ‘insensitive’, and then the boy was grumbling to himself.

“Well, I suppose I know what you mean,” Harry mused out loud. “But you could say I trained up when I got here. My transition into the wizarding world was closer to the Muggleborn experience, which is a part of what we’ll be focusing on in this class.”

Lewis shot Orpheus another withering look, and Harry wondered if he’d have to keep an eye on the pair in case things got ugly. He realised that he ought to ask around the staff if they knew of any other feuds going on within the school, too.

“Now, this morning I got the second-years to talk about when they first received their Hogwarts letters,” he said. “Basically we were looking at the different experiences everyone went through, which largely revolved around whether they came from a magical background or not. In a nutshell, it was a way of asking if some of the students come here at a disadvantage from their peers. What do we think?”

There was silence for a moment, and then, “Muggleborns are _definitely_ at a disadvantage,” said a Gryffindor girl named Rebecca Stiles. “When I first started here I didn’t have a clue what to expect.”

“At least you’re good at flying,” piped up a gloomy-looking Joan Beck, also from Gryffindor. “I’ve known I was a witch all my life – know all the rules of Quidditch, and I’m _still_ no good with a broom.”

“Bad luck, Beck,” said Selena Rochdale, the red-headed Slytherin girl next to Orpheus. She looked genuinely sympathetic, and Joan even cracked a smile under her gaze.

“Thanks, girls,” said Harry, before things went off track. “So – we can’t really ignore the fact that a lot of students here start off with a limited knowledge of magic and the wizarding world.” Everyone nodded. “What might they struggle with?”

“Well,” drawled Orpheus after a pause, “they’re not going to understand _us_ very well, are they?”

“Could you be any more patronising, _Orpheus_?” asked Lewis.

“I’m not trying to patronise you,” Orpheus remarked to him. “I’m _pitying_ you.”

“If you’re trying to be diplomatic I’d go for ‘sympathising with,’” said Harry wryly. “What did you mean by them not understanding?”

Orpheus snapped out of his arrogant demeanour, looking very uncomfortable all of a sudden. “I didn’t mean – ” he began, and then stopped before trying again as Lewis smirked at him. “I meant that... _we_ don’t understand _them_ , either, do we? The Muggleborns. That’s what this class is for, isn’t it? They can catch up in lessons and everything, but they won’t know our customs off the bat.”

Harry nodded, intrigued by the boy’s words. “You mean they might be isolated culturally speaking?”

“Well, yes.” Orpheus gestured around the classroom in an obvious sort of way.

“It’s true,” said Rebecca. “They do basically throw you in at the deep end.”

“There’s the history books,” offered Joan.

“But a lot of it’s still completely out of context for us. I only got about two months to get all my spell books and try to read any of it. You look up one famous incident and it mentions about twelve more. There’s just not enough _time_.”

“Yes,” piped up Rachel Bakshi. “And _we_ had no idea about the war. I arrived here all excited to have been accepted, only to be told that a couple of years earlier I’d have been arrested on the spot and killed!”

“But you _weren’t_ ,” said Nicholas Stuart, shaking his head with an amused grin. “The war’s over.”

Rachel fumed. “It wasn’t funny! I was eleven and far away from home.”

“And _I_ thought the ghosts were enough of a shock,” said Lewis, and a few of their number nodded along with him.

“I’m sorry that’s how you found out about the war, Miss Bakshi,” said Harry, feeling awful for her.

Rachel shifted in her seat. “It was all right when I settled in,” she said softly. “And Professor McGonagall came and gave us a talk about it the next day, which helped a bit.”

“She does that for all the first-years,” Orpheus told Harry.

“That’s good,” said Harry, and then addressed the whole group. “We are going to be discussing the war at various points this year. I’m aware that this could be upsetting; there may be those of you among us who lost friends and family members during that time, or had other difficulties. I’ll try not to spring the subject on you – I’ve planned the lessons carefully and I’ll try to give you some idea of what to expect, but if any of you have any personal concerns, please don’t hesitate to let me know. I have a box on my desk you can leave notes in. Only I can access them once they’re posted inside.”

“Can we talk about what _you_ did during the war?” asked Orpheus excitedly.

“If it’s relevant I’ll see what I can offer, but _only_ if it’s relevant.” Orpheus deflated in his chair, and Harry gave him a encouraging smile. Although the boy was pushy and sarcastic, Harry found his enthusiasm reassuring. “Now, we’ve talked a bit about the disadvantages a Muggleborn student may have,” he continued, “and already the war’s come up. Is everyone happy if I continue?” He looked around and everyone nodded. “Of course, we know that Voldemort detested Muggles, and there are those around who still see Muggleborns as inferior, so how might these disadvantages play to _their_ advantage?”

Rebecca’s hand shot up. “Because if the Muggleborn students are struggling, it looks as though it proves they’re not as good at magic as people from wizarding families.”

Harry nodded at her. “Exactly. And as you said earlier, Orpheus, that struggle could be cultural as much as academic. If you had always been told that Muggleborns are no good with magic, or less competent, or even dangerous when wielding it, you’re already going to have that bias in your head, especially if you’ve never actually _met_ any.”

“That’s no excuse,” said Lewis, raising his hand just after he’d spoken. “Even with ‘cultural differences’ loads of Muggleborns are brilliant students here, like your friend, Hermione Granger.”

“True,” said Harry. “And of course Voldemort’s followers were very inconsistent with their propaganda against Muggleborns when they were in power. So, according to them, Muggleborns are basically just Muggles who have ‘stolen’ wands from ‘real witches and wizards’, even though we know Muggles are incapable of using magic at all. And so, what were they aruging; Muggleborns are vastly inferior magic-users, yet simultaneously able to overpower a ‘better’ witch or wizard _and_ steal their wand from them?” There were a few nervous laughs around the room. “But that’s exactly the point – the lack of infomation Muggleborns arrive here with doesn't usually undermine how good they are at magic, _but_ it still can be actively used against them, and often has been. Voldemort and his army had to make things up, because – it wasn’t _actually_ their firm belief that Muggleborns can’t use magic or aren’t as good, is it?”

“It was about not wanting them around,” supplied Selena. She glanced at her fellow students, suddenly looking awkward. “Not – _me_. I mean, _I_ don’t feel that way, but – you know... dodgy types.”

Harry smiled at her.

At quarter-past one, Harry made his way back down to the Great Hall for lunch. As he approached the staff table he anxiously observed that Severus wasn’t there yet, and that Professor Webb was waving him over.

“Harry,” said the man, leaving him rather startled by the familiarity. “How did you find your first lesson?”

“ – It was good,” said Harry hesitantly as he took his seat, grateful for the distance the empty chair gave between them. “I _think_ – thank you.”

“How many have you had so far?”

“Four.”

Webb whistled. “Busy Monday morning.”

“Yes. And you?”

“I have the two double periods before lunch. All first-years.”

  
“Did they seem all right?” Harry thought back to Rachel Bakshi’s disastrous first impression.

“Oh, yes. They’re always nervous at first, bless them, but Transfiguration’s a good first lesson to distract them from that.”

Harry nodded and began tucking into a sandwich. He noticed Miriam Phillips and her friend (something Quentin, was it?) watching him shyly from the Ravenclaw table, and nodded at them both. Both girls went pink and ducked their heads down.

“So,” said Webb with a small cough, bringing Harry’s attention back to him. “You and Severus?”

Harry tensed slightly. “Yes,” he said casually.

“Quite the remarkable couple. I must confess I never imagined Severus had a lover somewhere.”

Harry didn’t know what to say. Webb wasn’t smirking or frowning or showing any signs of distaste, and he couldn’t get an angle on his tone at all. The way he’d phrased that sentence had made it sound like Severus had been concealing Harry like some dirty secret... which, he supposed, was sort of what they had been trying to pretend had been happening.

“And then of course he got ill and left,” Webb went on, sipping some coffee thoughtfully. “I had a feeling he’d be back one day, but then I read in the papers he’d just married the famous Harry Potter of all people!”

Harry forced out a laugh, hoping it sounded less confused than he felt. “Well – we do have a history, you know, Professor Webb.”

“Oh – Alec, _please_. And of course I know his involvement with the war, but what with you having been his student and only twenty-three to boot, it’s almost _scandalous_ – Not that it actually _is_ , I’m sure.”

Although Webb still didn’t seem aggressive, Harry was beginning to detect something a bit oily in his voice now, and he frowned despite himself. “You... know how old I am?” he asked.

“Oh!” Webb chuckled melodically. “But everyone knows how old _you_ are.”

“Oh – yes.” Harry suddenly felt like an idiot.

“So, you met up after the war and just... fell in love?”

“That’s right.”

“Amazing! Well, I wish you both the best.”

“...Thank you.”

And then, just like that, the conversation appeared to be over. Webb turned back to his plate and continued eating.

Harry felt rather blindsided, but grateful. He was tired from the last four hours, but also pleased with how they’d gone. The fourth year Slytherins and Gryffindors had been the most intense, which he’d expected, but from what he could see there didn’t seem to be any serious hatred between any of them. Lewis Thompson and Orpheus Askew were definitely prickly together, but it had been nothing on Harry’s bad blood with Draco Malfoy at that age. In fact, Lewis and Orpheus were almost more _teasing_ with each other than anything else. He’d been pleasantly surprised by how many of the Slytherins had been willing to contribute to the talks about Muggleborns, and none of them, barring Nicholas Stuart perhaps, had seemed bored by the subject.

Severus joined him about five minutes later, and Harry summarized the last four hours to him as they ate together.

“Mr Askew is a forthright young man,” said Severus, when Harry named him as one of the more talkative students, and he knew that was the closest Severus would come to criticising a student he liked.

“I think he’ll do well in Cultural,” Harry remarked. “Things were a bit spikier with the fourth years but nothing I’m worried about yet.”

  
“Anyone in particular?”

“Well – Askew and Lewis Thompson were a bit off with each other.”

  
“Indeed? I’ve never been aware of them interacting before now.”

“Maybe they’ve developed a rivalry since you left? I wouldn’t say it was _bad_ , but there’s definitely some tension there.”

“Anyone else of note?”

“Rebecca Stiles and Rachel Bakshi were good, too.”

Severus nodded again, “Miss Stiles shows some promise.”

“And do you know Selena Rochdale?”

“Yes, Slytherin’s Chaser.”

“She’s very bright.”

“She is. I expect a lot from her.”

“Not too much, I hope, Severus,” Webb cut in, sounding amused. “We still intend to thrash you at the November match.”

“You hold onto that intention,” Severus said to him. “It will make our victory even sweeter.”

Webb chuckled. “Isn’t he extraordinary, Harry?”

Harry smiled, pretending his mouth was too full to answer so that he could simply nod in reply, as his heart began to sink. Webb just chuckled some more, stood up and left the Great Hall.

“How was your morning?” Harry asked Severus, mentally stamping down on the mix of emotions he felt trying to rise.

“Well, the students have evidently managed to hold onto _some_ of what I was teaching them,” said Severus thoughtfully, sipping some tea.

“They must be excited to have you back.”

“Ah, yes. You were such a fan of my classes.”

Harry shrugged. “They were never _boring_.”

Harry’s last class for the day was the double period for the fourth year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. As with the Slytherins and Gryffindors, they spent most of it discussing the Muggleborn introduction to their magical education, and also Death Eater propaganda. The reminder that Voldemort had been raised in the Muggle world had evidently been an uncomfortable one, but it had given them even more to talk about. Although Harry was pleased with how easily they all got into conversation, he made sure to keep the lesson on track, got everyone to write down any questions or issues they didn’t have the time to get into properly. At four o’clock he sent them all off with a variation of the questionnaire he’d given everyone to do, and sat down in his office with a quill and parchment.

_Dear Teddy,_

_I hope you’ve had a good first day at school. Did you feel more grown up? Do you think the teachers will give you more responsibilities this year?_

_I’ve had an interesting day. The students seemed to like my class, but it’s still early, so who knows. Severus, Hagrid and Fang say hello and wish you the best._

_Lots of love, and miss you already,_

_Harry_

He then got out another roll of parchment and wrote to Hermione about his first day, explaining how the students had responded, and mentioning the issue with Rachel Bakshi. He then made his way up to the Owlery, and tied the two envelopes to Wilfrid’s leg.

“Hope you don’t mind a double trip?” he asked the bird as he popped a treat into Wilfrid’s beak.

Wilfrid hooted affirmatively, and Harry watched as he took off and soared over the Forbidden Forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone! My apologies if this is a bit of a mess, but I'm not going to cover every issue in just a few chapters. We will be dipping in and out of Harry's classes as the school term goes on, and I hope it's somewhat entertaining! Sending virtual hugs out X


	16. The End of the First Week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Severus wrap up their first week of term.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks all as ever for your comments and kudos and everything. Hope you enjoy! Pre-warning for a bit of sexiness at the end.

_GRANGER AND WEASLEY ANNOUNCE ENGAGEMENT_

The news had first broken on Thursday in a respectably sized article in _The Quibbler_ , composed of a simple statement from Ron and Hermione along with a nice photograph of the two smiling at each other. The _Daily Prophet_ , however, had the headline taking up the entire front page on Friday morning, along with a three-page insert on how ‘two thirds of the golden trio’ were marrying, and several photographs of them (and a few with Harry) dating as far back as fourth year.

By now used to the process, Harry kept his attention on the notes for his class, and cheerfully ignored all the glances and whispers. He’d already had a couple of owls asking for his comment on the news, which he’d sent away. Even with only a limited amount of material to go on, Rita Skeeter had managed to work in various speculations on the ‘journey’ of Ron and Hermione’s relationship and, inevitably, the nature of _Harry’s_ relationship with both of them.

‘Both’ being the key word, in this instance.

The staff, on the other hand, seemed more delighted with the simple news of the engagement, as many of them had once taught Ron and Hermione. And even those who hadn’t, were apparently thrilled.

“Oh, Miss Granger was the most exemplary student!” Horace Slughorn was raving to whomever was listening. “And I always knew there was something about young Weasley...”

“I think it’s just splendid,” Webb was saying to Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick. “A real symbol of positivity.” He looked past Severus at Harry. “I suppose you already knew about it, Harry?”

“We did,” Harry replied, and then he blushed as he realised he’d answered for the pair of them, like they were a real couple. He didn’t dare look at Severus, and instead busily returned to his notes. Despite some awkwardness with getting his classes used to open discussion, the week had gone well. His main focus now was ensuring that his subject was relevant for the seventh years.

The current seventh year had fewer students than the rest. Throughout their education they had often been referred to as the ‘lost year’ in the media because they had (or _would_ have) been first-years during the 1997-1998 academic year. Of course, many of them hadn’t even been there. Even some of the pureblood and half-blood families selected not to send their children to Hogwarts during the war, and at the risk of Voldemort’s wrath, too. Harry imagined that he’d regarded eleven and twelve-year-olds as insignificant, and probably why he hadn’t forced the issue. Also, there had been no first year Muggleborns in September 1997. Severus had deliberately turned a blind eye while Professors McGonagall and Sprout concealed the identities of all the Muggleborn hopefuls. The Headmistress had had a very busy summer after the war not only rebuilding the castle, but also tracking down all of the missing students and convincing their parents that the danger was over. All of the absent Muggleborns had eventually joined the school; many now within the sixth year to make up for lost time, but a handful of them were set to take their N.E.W.T.s the following May. As a result, the seventh and sixth years took Harry’s class together, with only one a week being compulsory. They would not be required to take an exam in Cultural Studies, but if they liked the subject they could apply to return for more after graduating.

The morning mail arrived, and Harry looked up to see the owls swooping over. A bright blue envelope was dropped in front of him, and he picked it up to look at the back. There, in big, wobbly handwriting was Harry’s name, and he smiled. He and Teddy had sent a few letters back and forth this week, and he hoped they might be able to keep it up. He was keen to know how his godson was doing, and thought that the letters could help soothe any hurt Teddy might feel at being left behind.

_Dear Harry,_

_Today I did writing and made a picture for my art book. I made a friend called Carly. She likes swimming and me. I think this week was good but I wish I had an owl._

_Love you. Teddy._

The letter had obviously been done as part of an assignment as a few of the words had been corrected in red biro, and the whole thing was written on faint guidelines. Harry could imagine the teacher asking Teddy, “Are you sure you mean an _owl_?” He smiled.

“From the boy again?” Severus asked him.

An unexpected – and nasty – shiver ran through Harry at Severus’s question. It startled him so much that when he opened his mouth to respond he found no words would come out.

Severus noticed. “Is everything all right?” he asked, and Harry saw the way he turned in his chair, blocking all sight of Professor Webb.

And then the spell was broken. Harry cleared his throat and stammered, “Er – yes, it’s from Teddy.”

“Bad news?”

“No – no, sorry. I don’t know what happened there. Everything’s fine.”

Severus eyed him for a moment. “Are you concerned about him?”

“I just miss him.”

Severus looked rather uncomfortable at that, and Harry supposed he had no comparison from which to give advice or support. The man had only ever really dealt with children over ten; even the ones he could actually tolerate. “Perhaps you could drop in on him tomorrow?”

“Nah, we both need to get used to this.”

At first Harry and Andromeda had discussed that they should keep all visits to a strict biweekly schedule so that Teddy could get used to it. But Harry didn’t like the idea of distancing himself needlessly, and decided that every other weekend he would at least pop in. Just because Teddy was no longer an infant it didn’t mean Harry’s care and company wasn’t required. Tomorrow, however, Teddy and Andromeda were going away to her friend’s for the weekend, and so it was out of his hands. He pocketed Teddy’s letter carefully, reminding himself to reply later on.

Severus studied him for a few more moments, before seeming to accept Harry’s response as he got up. He looked down at him and said, “I assume I’ll see you at lunch?” Harry nodded up at him. Severus tilted his head in consideration. “Unless you have somewhere else to be?”

  
Harry blinked. “No?” he said.

Severus was still looking at him expectedly, and with a hint of disapproval. “No other commitments?”

Harry wracked his brains, trying to think of whether he’d made any plans. “ – No.”

“Not even a date with your two paramours?”

Harry realised what he was getting at and burst out laughing. A few heads turned towards him, and he tried to silence himself, but was still shaking with mirth as Severus smirked down at him. Their audience gawped at the display, and Harry quieted himself enough to say, “I’ll send them love letters instead.”

Severus nodded once. “Very good.”

Harry watched him go and gave himself a little shake, before taking a sip of tea. He knew perfectly well why he’d reacted the way he had to Severus’s question about the letter, but it wasn’t Severus’s fault and so it didn’t matter in the slightest.

~o~

Harry only had four classes on Fridays and so the day passed by rather quickly. As usual, he spent his free time writing letters (this time to Andromeda and Ron as well as Teddy and Hermione) and planning more classes.

Severus was sleeping when Harry gently pushed on his bedroom door to peer inside that afternoon. Usually he liked to shut himself firmly away when taking his rest, and Harry wondered if he’d come up here and just collapsed on the bed, forgetting the door entirely. As Defence Against the Dark Arts was a core subject, he had a somewhat heavier schedule than Harry, with fewer free periods.

Harry watched him for a moment, following the rise and fall of his chest. He was really a very attractive man; his tall form stretched out on the bed, head turned slightly so that one cheek lay resting against inky black hair on the pillow. Asleep, Severus’s features were not marred by a grimace or an unpleasant smirk. Harry supposed that it had been foolish of him to assume no one else might have noticed, whether or not there was anything going on with Severus and Professor Webb. Just because the man had never bothered to be charming with him before now, didn’t mean it had been the same with _everyone_. Things between him and Professor Webb had remained the same; they treated each other coolly, with Webb venturing the occasional attempt at genuine conversation, but only with Harry present, as far as he knew. Harry now wondered if perhaps the man was simply curious about the pair of them, and after all, he wouldn’t be the first.

Harry left before Severus could wake up and catch him watching; closing the door behind him almost silently and making his way downstairs.

If it bothers you that much just _ask_ him, Harry thought to himself.

But then what?

If he discovered that Severus shared a sexual history with anyone else, what would he do with the information? What if, ultimately, it would be much the same as Harry asking the man about his feelings for his mother? What would he _gain_ by knowing about it? Hurt? Embarrassment? Anger? Disappointment?

He was distracted from his brooding by a loud tapping on one of the windows. A screech owl was perched just outside with an envelope in its beak, and Harry went over to unlatch the window. The bird hopped in, and dropped the letter into Harry’s hand.

Inside was a short, simple note in beautiful, cursive hand.

_Dear Harry,_

_The students are already excited about your classes. I would very much like to know how you thought your first week went. I am in my office if you are available, if not, a note will do._

_All the best,_

_Minerva_

Harry smiled and gave the owl a treat before it flew off, and then made his way out and up through the winding corridors towards the seventh floor.

“Hello, Headmistress,” he said as he finally entered the circular office.

“You are allowed to call me by my given name, you realise?” said Professor McGonagall, eyeing him over her spectacles as she emerged from tidying one of the cabinets.

Harry grinned stupidly. “All right. I suppose on some level I still see you as my teacher – Minerva.”

“And I may always see you as my student, on _some_ level.”

Harry nodded at her. He’d been up here a few times since the war, especially during the first few long weeks of reconstruction, and Minerva would often invite him and the others up for tea.

“Hello, Harry,” greeted a familiar voice warmly.

Harry turned to the large portrait hanging behind the desk, and locked eyes with the painted likeness of Albus Dumbledore.

“Hello, sir,” he said, moving closer.

Dumbledore looked him up and down, beaming at him. “You look very well!”

“I am, thanks. How are you?”

“Excellent, thank you, excellent.”

  
Harry smiled back up at him. He still had so many questions for the old man that would likely never be answered, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to be angry with him just at this moment. The painting was merely an echo of him, anyway.

“Severus all right?” Dumbledore asked.

“I think so,” said Harry. “He’s sleeping now.”

“Ah.”

“You two seemed to be getting along well this morning,” Minerva remarked.

Harry felt two pairs of eyes, one painted and one real, twinkling at him. “Yeah, er – things are okay with us,” he said with a small cough. Maybe it was just because of the sex, but he and Severus were _definitely_ getting along better right now.

Minerva raised an eyebrow. “No problems, then?”

“No, I mean – well, it’s not really a problem but...” Harry steeled himself. “I don’t suppose you know how he gets on with Professor Webb?”

Minerva just looked at him.

“They... seemed a little frosty with each other, that’s all. Professor Webb was asking me about our marriage and... well, he seemed friendly enough, but I just wondered if there’s something I should know. I’d ask Severus about it, but... well.”

Minerva nodded in understanding, no doubt having finished Harry’s sentence off in her mind. Severus disliked being questioned about things. “Alec is a former student of Severus’s,” she said, smiling knowingly as Harry’s eyes widened. “Oh, yes. He must be at least ten years older than you – ”

“Eleven,” corrected Dumbledore from behind a knitting magazine.

  
“Thank you, Albus. Yes, he would have been one of the first students Severus ever taught. They weren’t exactly each other’s favourite – Alec was a Beater on the Gryffindor Team and later its captain, and there were a couple of particularly volatile matches between us and the Slytherins during that time. Other than that, I don’t recall anything especially difficult between them. They worked together with a reasonable amount of civility until Severus’s illness, although I must admit when Alec first joined us I selected not to have them next to each other at the staff table, but what with a few people coming and going it didn’t occur to me to try and separate them again.” She frowned at Harry. “Do you think it might be a good idea to do so?”

“ – No, no,” said Harry, although he was tempted to say yes. “I just – You know when two people seem to be having a normal conversation, but you still feel like you’ve walked in on an argument?”

“Absolutely.”

“...I was just curious.”

“They certainly have their banter over Quidditch.”

Harry bit his lip. “Friendly banter?”

“Mm... that’s what it’s _meant_ to sound like.”

“Did he not do the same with you when you were head of Gryffindor?”

Minerva side-eyed Harry at that. “He wouldn’t have dared.”

Harry nodded. At least he had some information to go on; even if he still wasn’t sure what it was he thought was going on between the two men. He didn’t want Severus to be involved with anyone else, but he also didn’t want him to have any more enemies.

Over tea, Minerva and Harry discussed how the students had received Cultural Studies so far, and Harry asked her about how the Muggleborn first-years were informed about the war. They also talked a bit about Ron and Hermione's engagement. Harry felt a sense of calm wash over him in her company; and he felt properly hopeful that his subject might usher in a new era of understanding and acceptance.

~o~

Severus had evidently just woken up when Harry returned to their quarters, and so Harry suggested they eat dinner there, which he agreed to. Just after six o’clock Kreacher brought them up their food, and the pair of them sat down at the table.

“Happy with your first week?” Harry asked him. They hadn’t really discussed Severus’s class that much as Harry knew it was best not to overdo it with the questions.

“Delighted,” said Severus after swallowing a mouthful.

“That bad?”

Severus looked at him. “It was a perfectly ordinary start of term. You’re aware I don’t like to exaggerate.”

“Oh, I know.”

They eyed each other in silence for a few seconds, before breaking into amused smirks.

After dinner, they moved over to the sofa; Severus looking through some papers while sat at the other end and watched him.

“Have you started them on homework already?” said Harry.

“Yes,” Severus replied, narrowing his eyes at something he seemed to find offensive on one of the scrolls. “Am I to take it from that query that you have not?”

“They have a questionnaire to do.”

Severus snorted. “How very junior school.”

“Well, the subject’s brand new. And I don’t want to encroach too much on the _core_ subjects.”

Severus didn’t answer him, and Harry lay back and stared up at the vaulted ceiling, wondering if he should spend his evening elsewhere. He didn’t want to disturb Severus if he was busy, and yet... it _was_ Friday evening, wasn’t it?

Harry sat up, looking at Severus again. He scooted closer to him, pretending to look at the paper Severus was reading.

Severus didn’t react.

Harry placed a hand on Severus’s thigh, and this time Severus looked at him with raised eyebrows. Harry ignored him, still ‘reading’ the badly scrawled piece of writing in Severus’s hand. And then he stroked down between Severus’s thighs.

Severus jerked slightly. “Harry,” he said warningly.

“What?” said Harry, pleased to finally have his attention. “You’d rather do your marking? Or have drinks in the staffroom?” He made to pull his hand away, and Severus caught it, returning it to his crotch.

“If you were going anywhere with this,” he rumbled. “Might I suggest you continue?”

Harry bit his lip as they stared at each other for a moment. He wanted to try this. Severus had done it to him a couple of nights ago and he wanted to – not so much return the favour as give Severus more attention. With his own lack of experience it seemed that everything had fallen on Severus to take charge, which Harry had zero qualms over. But he longed to make it clear that he was every bit as excited by Severus as Severus was by him. He unbuttoned Severus’s trousers, still massaging gently with his fingers.

“Could you – ?”

Severus lifted his hips, and together they pulled down his trousers and underwear to his ankles as he sat again, while Harry got on his knees.

Severus was such a _man_ , he thought as he came face to face with his big and already firm cock. He took it into one hand carefully, and gave the shaft a few licks before pumping him to full hardness. When he was happy with that, he ducked down to take the head into his mouth, ensuring not to scrape him with his teeth, and sucked experimentally. Severus, who had remained so motionless as to put Harry to shame for his own writhing and gasping while being sucked off, shifted under him and exhaled. Harry glanced up to see him with his chin tilted up; looking up at the ceiling. He took his time, alternating between sucking, licking, and using his hands. He tried not to let his fears about being bad ruin his concentration, and focused on trying to make it as enjoyable as possible. He felt a frisson of satisfaction as Severus moaned and growled at his ministrations, and his own cock twitched in his pants. He’d already tasted Severus’s come as he’d licked it off his fingers a couple of times, but here it was warmer; headier.

Harry’s mouth was sore by the time Severus began thrusting up to meet him. He knew he’d gag if he tried to take it any deeper, and so he simply kept up his attentions while bringing his other hand up to roll Severus’s balls; like he did with Harry’s. When the man finally came, it was after he'd stroked a hand over Harry's hair and grunted a word of warning, and Harry _did_ end up choking a bit when a load of release shot inside his mouth. He swallowed as much as he could, still coughing slightly and his eyes watering, and when he focused on Severus again his breath caught in his throat at the look the man was giving him.

Severus reached down and tugged Harry up and onto the sofa, as he stretched out along the length of it. Harry ended up lying more or less on top of Severus and between his open legs as the man pulled him down for a hungry kiss. Harry hummed, and after a while made to push up, but a large hand smacked down on his suddenly bare bottom, holding him in place.

“Oh!”

The impact sent another jolt of excitement through Harry, and he blinked into Severus’s neck as he realised the man must have silently disrobed him. Severus rubbed Harry’s arse cheeks firmly while he slid his other hand down between them. Harry moaned softly as he felt that slightly roughened palm cup his throbbing cock, and he nuzzled the collar of Severus’s black shirt.

“Go on,” breathed Severus. “I know you want to.”

Shuddering, his hands twisting and clenching at the shirt, Harry began to hump Severus’s palm.

“There’s a good boy,” murmured Severus, thumbing along the indentation of Harry’s buttocks.

Harry gasped, grinding into that delicious pressure, faster and faster, until Severus pushed a finger between his cheeks, brushing against his hole, and he peaked forcefully.

Panting, he shifted up and lay his head on Severus’s chest, as the other man wrapped him in an embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that got mildly kinky. Stay safe everyone! <3


	17. Nightmares in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week later Harry visits Teddy and Andromeda. During a quick trip back to Hogwarts, Severus confronts Harry about something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Wow, thank you so much for all the comments on the previous chapter, I hope this one delivers too! I don't have time tonight to respond to your comments, but I think a couple of you had questions that should be answered in this chapter, if not somewhere down the line, so I hope it doesn't disappoint!
> 
> Slight spoilers for this chapter, but just in case:
> 
> I wanted to issue a slight warning for a look at some mental and emotional abuse and neglect to do with Harry's upbringing, as well as a very brief mention of weight issues, and a rather claustrophobic nightmare sequence.

A week later on Saturday morning, Harry Floo’d to Andromeda’s house in London. He emerged from the fireplace in the living room, dusting off his clothes and turning to clean the surrounding area of any soot with a quick _Scourgify_.

“Harry!” Teddy shrieked, running into the room and lunging at him for a hug.

“Hello!” wheezed Harry, hugging him back.

Andromeda came in for a hug and a kiss as well, as Teddy darted about like a little puppy showing Harry all his work from school and a pair of jeans Andromeda had found in a charity shop. He seemed in fine shape, and most of Harry’s worries about the boy struggling at school dissipated as he listened to him go on about what Miss Redmond had said or what his little friend Carly had done.

After a cup of tea they all got their wellington boots on, and Andromeda drove them out to the countryside, managing to bypass a couple of traffic jams with some sort of magic similar to that utilised by the Knight Bus. Harry had always been impressed that she had learned to drive and wondered, not for the first time, if he should do so himself. It would hardly beat flying, but it did look rather useful owning a car.

They parked up near a farm somewhere in Essex, and began their walk through the fields. Well into September, the air was cooling rapidly, but the sun was still plenty hot when it shone through the clouds. Teddy charged about in front of them with a large stick that played its part as both a broomstick and a sword as he roared and whooped to himself.

“Just look at him,” said Andromeda. “Dora used to be just the same.”

“I feel like he’s grown again,” said Harry. “I mean I know it’s only been two weeks, but _still_.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. Children’s growth spurts are very random sometimes – I’m sure you remember.”

Harry nodded awkwardly. He’d become more aware of his body growing during his adolescence, when he’d required new robes nearly every year and Molly and Arthur would comment rather generously on how big he was getting. But before then, Harry had never been measured, and certainly never had his growth lovingly tracked up the kitchen wall. It would have been laughable, anyway. He’d always been short and skinny, and while Dudley had frequently been wider than he was tall, he’d still always towered over Harry. At thirteen, Harry had still fit into one of Dudley’s old tops from when he was eight, and Dudley had been a very large eight-year-old, but nevertheless. He wondered for a moment on how Dudley was getting along now. He hadn’t seen his cousin in a couple of years and knew that since he’d finished school and given up boxing his weight had become a problem again, only this time he was unprotected by his parents’ coddling. He felt a pang of sympathy that surprised him. Dudley may have been an awful child but Dumbledore had been right about his parents damaging him with their overindulgence. Looking at Uncle Vernon, it was entirely likely that Dudley would always have been on the larger side, but he had only learned how to eat less really through force, which had to be completely traumatic.

“STUPEFY!” yelled Teddy, brandishing the stick at a nearby tree as his hair went from brown to blond to red and then back again in quick succession.

Harry smiled. It had been enjoyable watching his godson grow, and Teddy had two sets of measurements charting his height; one at Andromeda’s and one at Harry’s.

“So, how do you think your first two weeks went?” asked Andromeda.

“Good,” said Harry. “I think.” The last fortnight had passed Harry by in a blur of intense class discussions, a few walks with Hagrid, dozens of letters, and rather a lot of sex with Severus, but he'd leave out that last one. “It’s been _busy_.” He briefly surmised how he’d begun his lessons and the various issues that had been thrown up along the way.

“Merlin, I’d have loved to see you educate my generation,” laughed Andromeda when he’d finished.

“Probably would have ended up hexed in a broom cupboard somewhere,” Harry said.

“You would have had plenty of support, too. But basically, yes.”

“I’m actually very pleased with the Slytherins’ progress. I only hope it isn’t dividing them behind the scenes.”

“I think you’ll find that would be going on anyway.”

“Maybe.”

“And you and Severus? Still doing well?”

Harry tried not to immediately blush, and failed dismally. “Yes, actually. Really well.”

“You have slept together, then?”

Harry nearly fell over. “Er – I...” He looked up ahead and found Teddy at a satisfactory distance from them. “Yes, we have.”

Andromeda nodded once, almost decisively. “Do you enjoy it with him?”

Harry knew he must be very red, and choked out, “Y-yes.” He swallowed.

“And do you feel safe?”

“Yes. Very much so.”

“That’s good. As long as everything’s respectful between the two of you.”

“It is.”

Harry prayed she wouldn’t ever ask for further details of his relationship, even out of concern. Better Andromeda than Molly Weasley, he supposed, but he still had no idea of how to discuss such things. Occasionally sex with Severus could get a little on the rough side, but it was always _fantastic_ , and Severus would always check him over afterwards, stroking, praising, and kissing him. Harry had never felt so cared for in his entire life, and even with what little he knew about sex, he wouldn’t describe anything they had done as hardcore, but he still worried that another person wouldn’t understand. Andromeda, to her credit, did not continue on the subject, and instead told him about her administrative work for the Aurors at the Ministry, which kept them occupied for a good chunk of the journey as they swapped views on various laws and customs and how they thought they should be changed or abandoned.

Towards the end of the walk Teddy was dragging his feet a bit, but he perked up at the promise of cake back home, and managed to get himself back to the car.

“I’m going to have tea at Carly’s mum’s on... erm, next week,” Teddy informed Harry during the ride home.

“That’s nice,” said Harry. “Do you know what you’ll do there?”

“Have _tea_.”

Harry chuckled. “But you’ll play games and things too, won’t you?”

“...Maybe. I don’t know. I think Carly wants to watch a video. Or – no, something else. A CD?”

“DVD?”

“...Yes. That’s it.”

It began to rain at two o’clock, so when Harry, Teddy and Andromeda arrived home they sat with steaming mugs of tea and a slice of cake each in the garden room as the water pounded on the glass above. After that, they played Exploding Snap for a while and listened to an episode of _Little Whizzes_ , a children’s program on the radio.

Harry felt himself relax back into the comfortable surroundings, listening to Teddy’s giggles and Andromeda’s wry responses to the radio presenter. He thought that even if he never had a child of his own, he would be more than fulfilled to see Teddy through life. He was a lovely kid, and he felt privileged all over again to have been named his godfather, and to have been embraced so willingly by Andromeda.

After dinner, they watched a bit of television until it was time for Teddy to go to bed. Harry took charge of getting him ready and reading him a story, before tucking him in with a kiss on the cheek. He and Andromeda had a glass of wine each before Harry bid her goodnight and retired to the spare bedroom to get started on marking some homework. The vast majority of the work was, so far, a bit of a mess structurally, but considering the class was so new, he was thrilled his students had so much to write about. About halfway through, he realised he’d forgotten to bring the first-years’ homework with him. He considered leaving it until Sunday, but knew that he was likely to postpone returning to Hogwarts for as long as possible to make the most of his time with Teddy and Andromeda. The Floo connection between Andromeda’s home and his quarters at Hogwarts would thankfully remain open all weekend, and so he snuck back downstairs to the empty living room, where the only fireplace was, and Floo’d back to the castle.

His and Severus’s quarters were still lit, but apparently empty. Harry stepped off the hearth and made his way over to the desk to see if he’d left the papers there. When he didn’t find them, he went upstairs to his bedroom, and began looking around.

“Back so soon?”

Harry jumped slightly and laughed, turning to face Severus who was loitering in the doorway. “I _knew_ you’d do that," he said.

Severus’s black eyes glittered with amusement. “I had no intention of startling you.”

“Of course you didn’t – Yes!” Harry hissed triumphantly as he discovered the pile of homework on top of the chest of drawers. He held it aloft. “Forgot some homework.”

“I’ve heard that one before.”

Harry grinned. “Good day?”

“Quite enjoyable. You’re going back, then?”

“Yep.”

Severus stepped back so that Harry could leave the room, but as soon as he had, he embraced him from behind, looping his arms beneath Harry’s and holding him close. “I’m rather glad you stopped by,” he said silkily, right in Harry’s ear, making him shudder. “Do you have to be back right away?”

“Not – hmm, not _right_ away, I suppose,” replied Harry as Severus began kissing down his neck.

Severus practically frogmarched Harry into his bedroom, the door clicking shut behind them.

~o~

Harry was in his cupboard. It was pitch black, and very warm. He could hear the plumbing groaning as someone ran a tap in the bathroom, and footsteps on the landing above. He pushed on the door, hoping to sneak to the kitchen and get some water, but it was firmly locked. He sighed, wincing as the groaning became louder and the pipes began screaming. Something moved by Harry’s foot, towards the end of the cupboard, and he gasped and pulled it away, curling in on himself. The groaning was _not_ coming from the plumbing, he realised. There was something in the cupboard with him.

Harry turned and began beating hard on the door. “Let me out!” he yelled. “Please, let me out!”

_“QUIET, BOY!”_ yelled Uncle Vernon from upstairs.

“Please! There’s something here!”

The groans became louder, and the thing at his feet began crawling up to meet him, cold, clammy hands searching for him along the sheets on the floor.

“Let me out!”

_“Shut up, Potter!”_ yelled Malfoy from somewhere.

“Please!”

_“Seal the door,”_ came Umbridge’s voice. _“That will teach the naughty child to behave.”_

Someone was taping up the cupboard door, blocking what little light escaped through the cracks.

“No!”

The thing had found him – it gripped Harry’s wrists so tight he heard them crack and he cried in pain. He could feel cold, rancid breath on his face, and smell fetid water dripping from decaying skin – it was pooling on the sheets; spilling onto the wooden floor below them and filling the cupboard...

_“Harry!”_

“HELP ME! PLEASE HELP ME!”

“Harry!”

Harry gasped, waking abruptly to a warm, dark, unfamiliar room.

“Here,” said Severus, who was suddenly helping him into a sitting position, rubbing his sides and offering a glass of water.

Shaking, Harry blinked at it for a moment, before finally accepting it and taking a long drink. He hadn’t even realised he’d fallen asleep. It felt as though one minute he’d been on his hands and knees, Severus pounding into him as he’d cried and begged for more, the next he’d orgasmed powerfully and then blacked out. His arms must have been trapped underneath him, as they were tingling uncomfortably.

“Thank you,” he whispered, still trembling as he took another sip.

“That’s all right,” replied Severus, rubbing his back now.

Harry cringed when he realised how sweaty he was. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said, mortified that he’d woken Severus over something so stupid.

“And what is there for you to be sorry about? You’re having nightmares.”

Harry shook his head. “I had _a_ nightmare.”

Severus took the empty glass from him and put it to one side. “I heard you last night, as well.”

Oh.

Severus watched him closely. “I know that you’re still prone to them. There’s no point in pretending.”

Harry looked at him sheepishly. “They’re not even about the war most of the time,” he admitted. By ‘war’ he actually meant Voldemort, but he still didn’t know how Severus felt about people using the name, and he didn’t want to cause him any distress. “It’s weird, you’d think they would be. Not that I don’t dream about it at _all_ , but still.”

Severus’s eyes glinted in the half-light. “About what, then?”

“Oh, just – generic nightmare stuff, I suppose.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Nightmare stuff,” he repeated.

“Yeah. Being late. Being embarrassed, that kind of thing.” It wasn’t entirely untrue. He’d been getting many rehashes of the kinds of bad dreams he’d had as a child, when the most frightening thing he could imagine was screwing things up for himself with the Dursleys somehow; breaking something, getting into trouble at school or in public, or accidentally saying something ‘freakish’. He could hardly tell Severus Snape that he was usually dreaming about... what; the Dursleys being _mean_ to him? He would think Harry was ridiculous. And besides, he might already know. If he’d been reading Harry’s mind recently, Harry couldn’t tell, although he hoped not. But if he had, at least he’d had the decency to be subtle about it.

“But it was about the war on this occasion?” Severus asked, and Harry shrugged.

“Sort of. Inferi. Or one of them.”

Severus was still watching him doubtfully. “If your mind is unsettled I can give you something for it,” he said after a few moments.

Harry considered it for a moment. To his delight, Severus had been sleeping with him in his bed since the Friday before last, but he probably wouldn’t want to keep doing so if Harry was yelling and crying or whatever sounds he made while unconscious.

“Thank you, I – ” Harry suddenly remembered. He looked over at the silver alarm clock on a side table and saw that it was twenty-past midnight. “I have to get back!” He reluctantly pulled away from Severus’s arms, and began picking up the clothes he’d shed in such a hurry a couple of hours earlier.

“Are you sure? I’m sure they will understand if you...” Severus paused for a moment before saying, “If you need to rest here.”

“Andy would, Teddy wouldn’t,” Harry replied, pulling on his trousers and doing them up.

“He isn’t alone.”

“But if he woke in the night and I wasn’t there – it would upset him.”

Severus nodded. He didn’t look annoyed by Harry’s response, merely lost. “You know you could bring the child here sometimes. If you wished.”

Harry looked up at him, surprised. “That would be all right with you?”

Severus inclined his head. “The boy is tolerable enough.”

Harry flinched slightly. He knew why it had affected him when Severus had referred to Teddy as ‘the boy’. It wasn’t actually the word ‘boy’ itself; that much he was certain of, since Severus had started calling him a ‘good boy’ in bed, which always made Harry’s knees weak. No, it was very firmly nothing to do with _that_.

The problem was that ‘the boy’ was how Harry had been referred to for years; rarely by his first name. It was a way for the Dursleys to talk around and over him, to barely acknowledge the fact that he was there. It was a way to keep Harry apart from their own, cosy little unit. In fact, Harry hadn’t known what his name _was_ until the first day of school, when his and Dudley’s primary teacher had met Aunt Petunia outside for collection to ask why Harry wouldn’t answer to his name on the register, or why Dudley had been unable to confirm his cousin’s name, either. Harry had thought his name was Boy, and had always assumed his surname to be Dursley. Aunt Petunia was quick to remedy that, of course. She didn’t want any closer association with her nephew than she already had, and Harry had a more vivid recollection of her shaking him and forcing him to repeat that his name was ‘Harry, Harry, Harry’ than he did of any of his first school year.

He knew Severus wasn’t trying to be cruel with Teddy. There was something strangely intimate about using a person’s given name, and it was common in the wizarding world to use someone’s last name if you were not close. ‘The boy’ was his way of tiptoeing around a person he wasn’t sure where he stood with; who was neither his student nor, technically even his responsibility. Still, Harry felt a glimmer of hope; similar to the one he’d had when Severus brought Teddy milk, at his proposal.

“You can use his name,” he said softly.

Severus pursed his lips, and then said, “ – Edward.”

Harry gave him a look. “That’s what Narcissa Malfoy calls him. I mean, I know that was a big step for her to even acknowledge – ”

“Teddy,” said Severus stiffly.

Harry smiled. He supposed there was something sort of inherently affectionate about the name as it was also an abbreviation. He wanted to say how much it meant to him, to thank Severus for holding him after his bad dream, and to say how happy he was that that he was now willing to make room for Teddy in his life. But he thought he might cry if he did.

Instead, he pulled on his T-shirt, and walked back over to the bed. “I’ll see you tomorrow evening, okay?” he said softly, and kissed him soundly before pulling away.

“Harry.”

Harry looked back to see Severus get out of bed too. Completely naked, Severus strode over to a small box that opened to reveal several vials of the same coloured potion, his normally sallow skin almost blue in the moonlight filtering through the curtains.

“These are all freshly brewed,” he said in a businesslike voice, holding one out. “They are not for taking every night as there is an addictive quality, but you are always welcome to take one if you are in particular need of a decent sleep.”

Harry smiled, taking the vial from Severus and grabbing up the first year homework from the shelf. “Thank you,” he said, gazing at him for a moment before turning to leave.

He felt Severus watching him as he exited, feeling that happy, warm feeling inside he always got by spending time with him these days. He Floo’d back to Andromeda’s, having to bat at the papers a bit as they’d caught slightly along the way, and quietly as possible went to wash up a bit in the bathroom.

Splashing cold water onto his face, Harry rubbed at his eyes a little and looked at his wet, exhausted-looking reflection in the mirror. What if Severus had only started sleeping with him after sex _because_ of the nightmares, he wondered? It was clear that all the Dreamless Sleep he’d been brewing had been partially in response to Harry’s nightmares, so maybe he felt it was his responsibility to keep an eye on him? Harry hoped not. It was lovely to have Severus be so supportive, but Harry didn’t want him to pity him or still think of him as some incompetent child.

Harry speculated for a moment if it might be worth investing in a Pensieve, but knew that to have that kind of thing lying around ran a lot of risks, and not necessarily from Severus. He liked to think that at this stage, whether Severus regarded their relationship as a serious one or not, the man would not try to seek retribution for the unfortunate incident during Harry’s fifth year. But he didn’t know that for sure, and that issue aside, there would be people out there willing to pay a lot of money to get hold of Harry Potter’s memories. Even with their secure chambers, Harry could imagine another Rita Skeeter type managing to breach the protective barriers and get in. And also, would putting his bad memories into a Pensieve actually stop the nightmares? You weren’t meant to use them to completely obliterate memories, after all. They had to be carefully managed.

Harry returned to the spare bedroom, got into his pyjamas and swallowed the contents of the vial. The first-year’s homework would have to wait until tomorrow, after all.


	18. Locked Doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry encounters a student with some problems and sees how he and Severus might be able to help. Slughorn issues an invitation, and after Severus goes away for the night, he and Harry discuss how the latter might stave off his nightmares.

“If you could all have your essays in by Friday, that would be great,” Harry said as the third year Gryffindors and Slytherins began packing up. It was Wednesday, and after his third class he was greatly looking forward to lunch. He returned to his desk and started placing the third-year papers into his satchel as the room began to clear.

“Coming to Hogsmeade on Saturday?” he heard Will Macefield ask.

“I can’t,” replied Enoch Jones, a rather sour-faced Slytherin boy with an impressive mass of curly black hair.

“What?” asked Theodora Lancet. “Why?”

“Didn’t get his form signed,” cut in Bernard Percy, the lone Gryffindor of the group.

“So – just send it off?”

“It won’t make any difference,” grumbled Enoch, looking very downtrodden as he hoisted his bag over his shoulder and stomped out of the classroom.

“What’s _his_ problem?” Theodora drawled.

“Leave it, Lancet,” said Bernard. “It’s complicated.”

Harry, who had cleared his desk off while he pretended not to be listening, finally looked up as Will, Theodora and Bernard left. Recalling Enoch’s unhappy words made him internally wince as he remembered, ten years previously, watching as Ron and Hermione left for Hogsmeade without him. He considered it for a moment, having wanted to speak to McGonagall about Enoch for some time, before deciding on a slight change of plan. He made his way up to the third floor, passing through the throng of students coming the other way, until he came to the Defence classroom.

The room was much the same as Harry remembered, but now this was Severus’s domain, and he hadn’t yet stepped foot inside as a fellow member of staff. He heard Severus’s voice coming from the office at the far end of the room, and he walked over to peer in through the open door.

“...will be confiscated,” was the first thing he heard Severus saying with clarity. The man was looming over two little first-years, who turned when they heard Harry, their mouths dropping open.

“Ah, sorry,” said Harry. “I’ll wait outside.”

“No need,” said Severus, before glaring back down at the children, who both whipped their heads back around to face their teacher as though they were expecting an attack. “I do not want a repeat of this sort of idiocy again, do I make myself clear?”

Li Zhao and Stephanie Chancellor nodded, looking thoroughly chastened as they both muttered, “Yes, sir.”

“That will be all.”

White-faced, the children darted out of the office, both of them shooting curious looks between Severus and Harry as they went.

“Uh, oh,” said Harry when they were gone. “Have I come at a bad time?”

Severus placed what looked like a small, pink yoyo on the desk with some force. The circular label read _Perpetual Bouncer. Bounce once for hours of fun!_ “Those Weasleys have a great deal to answer for!” he snarled.

“They’d be only too happy to hear that. Are you sure it’s not a _Zonko’s_ product?”

Severus waved at the Bouncer, which flipped over to reveal three w’s.

Harry shrugged in acceptance. “All right, then.”

Severus sighed in exasperation, and then looked him up and down. “And to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“To whom, actually. Enoch Jones.”

“Oh? What’s the problem; is he not behaving himself for the Golden Boy?”

“Far from it. I just wanted to ask you if you – ”

“That will be _all_ , Miss Chancellor,” Severus said loudly towards the door, and then quick footsteps could be heard exiting the classroom. He rolled his eyes. “Congratulations, you have yet another little fan with a crush.”

Harry smiled. “Or maybe it was for _your_ benefit. You’re very crush-worthy.”

Severus cocked an eyebrow. “Speaking for yourself?”

“I can’t divulge that information without a lawyer present. Now – Jones. He didn’t get his permission slip signed to go to Hogsmeade.”

“Indeed?”

“I just wondered if _you_ knew of any reasons why he shouldn’t be allowed to go.”

“...Aside from the permission slip, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

Severus tilted his head in thought. “He’s a good student apart from his writing, which I admit is terrible.”

“He’s very dyslexic, but that’s no reason to punish the poor kid.”

Harry got a blank stare for his troubles. “What in Merlin’s name is _dis-lecks-ick_?” asked Severus.

“Difficulty reading and writing. There’s a specific learning disorder the Muggles call dyslexia.”

“Well, I've never heard of it.”

“I remember my aunt insisting my cousin had it.”

“And did he?”

“No idea. Possibly. But there should be more than enough to help Jones on that front – even a Quick Quotes Quill would do in a pinch.”

“Wouldn’t that draw attention to a problem that’s embarrassing enough?”

“You can get ones you can hold.”

“Hm, it doesn’t really encourage hard work, does it?”

“But he _does_ work hard. Harder than most I’ll bet, just trying to keep up.”

Severus sneered. “You’re really terribly _soft_ , aren’t you, Potter?”

Harry frowned. “Are you all right? You seem – ”

“I’m fine,” said Severus, rubbing at his forehead slightly. “My apologies, I’ve had a trying morning. I agree that Jones is otherwise a promising young wizard, but you realise he still cannot be allowed on excursions without a signed form?”

“Exactly. So I was thinking, if he was all right with it, one of us could write to his parents – or guardians – and see if we have any luck getting a response.”

“How do you know his parents don’t have a good reason for not signing it?”

“He was talking about it with his friends. It just sounded like it sort of... didn’t get done. I mean, he might get it sorted on his own, but – it would be a shame if he didn’t.”

Severus folded his arms, seeming to ponder the issue. “Yes, I suppose he’s unlikely to have some convenient means of invisibility to enable a visit.” He glanced back at Harry. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Sorry, I still need a lawyer. So, I’ll talk to Minerva?”

Severus’s resolve seemed to break slightly. The barest hint of a genuine smile came through, and it made Harry's heart lurch in his chest. “I don’t know why you’re asking me – you’ve clearly made your mind up already.”

“You’re his head of house. I was thinking he might trust you the most to contact his parents.”

“Ah, this was your long-winded way of persuading _me_ to do the honours?”

Harry put a hand up. “I’m happy to write. Just – I don’t know how happy _Jones_ would be if I did.”

Severus watched him for a moment longer, before nodding. “Very well. See how far you get with Minerva and then we’ll see what we can do.”

“Great. Thanks.” Harry distractedly ran a hand through his hair, which he noticed was getting rather long. “Shall we go to lunch?”

They joined the rest of the staff for lunch in the Great Hall, sitting down to a pleasant meal of various salads and breads. Harry was still worried about Severus. He was reasonably talkative, but Harry thought he seemed a little distant – distracted, almost. He was trying to figure out a way of asking if he was feeling ill, suspecting the curse, when Professor Slughorn plonked himself down next to him, in the seat Hagrid usually occupied for feasts.

“Ah, Harry, Severus!” Horace greeted the pair of them.

“Good afternoon, Horace,” said Severus as Harry gave a bit of strained smile.

“Trust you’re both well? I was entertaining the thought of a small get together next Saturday evening; belated celebration of a new school year with two of my best ex-pupils. I don’t suppose the two of you are available?”

Severus and Harry both glanced at each other.

“...Next Saturday?” said Harry. “As in, the last weekend of this month?”

“Yes, that’s it,” said Slughorn, positively beaming at them.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I take care of my godson every other weekend – and that’s one of them.” Harry dithered slightly, having no idea whether Severus would want to get in on his convenient (albeit true) excuse as well. He knew that Slughorn was likely to want them as a pair, anyway.

Slughorn’s brow wrinkled as Harry spoke. “Ah, well, never mind – the weekend after, then? October the, er... something?”

Harry looked at Severus, trying to figure out something – _anything_ from his husband’s countenance, but Severus just looked blank.

“Come now, you wouldn’t want to let an old man down, would you?” Horace prompted, thankfully seeming to believe they were just trying to work out if they had anything else booked.

“Of course, Horace,” said Severus smoothly. “Thank you for the invitation.”

“Wonderful! I’ll look forward to it – catch up with you another time for the finer details. See you later!” Horace rose from his seat and wandered off with a pleased air about him.

“Well. We know what we’re doing for dinner in two weeks, then,” said Harry conversationally. It wasn’t that he disliked Slughorn, but the man still lived in his own little fantasy world, and Harry wasn’t sure how he and Severus would be expected to perform in it.

He caught Professor Webb watching them as Slughorn left, and the man gave an almost imperceptible huff and shake of the head as he looked away. Harry gave him his own small glare and went back to his food. As much as he’d wanted to avoid any more petty rivalries after Malfoy, Harry was finding it increasingly difficult to like Webb. The man had a stick up his backside about something, and therefore his occasional friendliness had to be fake, and whether the problem was more to do with him, Harry, Severus or even anyone else in the world, Harry was no longer inclined to care.

“Harry,” said Severus a few minutes later when Harry got up to leave. “I need to be somewhere this evening, so I won’t be at dinner. I may be late coming back, so do not feel you need to wait for me.”

“Oh, okay,” said Harry, pointedly not looking at Webb in case the man was listening again. He thought he might get very annoyed if he discovered he was. “Is everything all right?”

Severus’s gaze was surprisingly soft. “Yes. I’ll see you later, if not, tomorrow morning.” He placed a hand on Harry’s arm and gave it a small squeeze, and it instantly made Harry smile.

“See you.”

~o~

When classes were over, Harry made the long journey up to the Headmistress’s Tower. While he was on one of the moving staircases, he caught sight of Professor Trelawney almost floating down another flight of steps below. She clocked him, and gave him one of her knowing, pitying looks, as though, had she been close enough, she would have informed him that he would be crushed to death by a fallen light fixture during his very last lesson of the term. He settled for a fixed smile and a nod at her.

When he was finally inside Minerva’s office, he relayed his various concerns about Enoch Jones (trusting that the details wouldn’t go any further than her office) and found she was rather open to his ideas about helping with Enoch’s writing. She was also willing, with the student’s consent, for him or Severus to write to Enoch’s parents about the permission form, although she began to frown as soon as he suggested making alterations to the form itself.

“I appreciate your intentions, Harry, but it is crucial that we get parental consent,” she said, peering at him with a hint of reproach.

“I know,” said Harry urgently, “but – maybe you could rephrase it to say something like, ‘Do you have any reason why your child _can’t_ go on Hogsmeade weekends?’ You could charm it so you can tell if the parents received it, and if they choose not to sign it that also counts as permission.” Minerva seemed to contemplate it for a moment, and Harry thought she looked a little sad. He continued, “Look, I understand that if a student was so badly behaved it would actually be a hazard if they went, but in the normal course of things it just singles them out if they can’t go.”

Minerva nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll look into it,” she said finally with a small sigh. “I can’t promise anything at the moment as the Board of Governors would need to be in agreement – perhaps you could write down some more of your thoughts and I can approach them on your behalf?”

“That would be great! I’ll do that now.”

And so Harry spent his evening listing and perfecting his suggestions for altering the permission forms and his reasoning behind each one. He owled it off to Minerva and, finding that dinner was nearly over, ate alone in his quarters in front of the fire. After Kreacher took the dishes back to the kitchen, Harry wrote in a card for Hermione’s birthday, which was on Friday, and went into his bedroom to wrap the large and rare volume he’d found for her on Ancient Runes. As he tied a ribbon around the parcel, he thought a bit about Enoch, hoping that things weren’t terrible for him at home. As Severus said, there could have been a reason for his parents not allowing him to go; he could be in trouble for something, or there could have been family problems that had kept them too busy to deal with anything else.

After an evening of marking and a quick skim through of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ , Harry went upstairs and automatically went to Severus’s bedroom, only to find it locked.

Oh.

It didn’t necessarily mean Severus wanted him out. Harry was convinced he usually locked his room when he was away, as extra security. He supposed he could try _Alohamora_ and force the issue as his current set of pyjamas was in there, but the idea felt wrong somehow. Severus might want some space tonight, if he was intending to return, and Harry wasn’t going to intrude. Still, he felt an almost childish disappointment settle in. Even on the nights they didn’t have sex, Harry had been getting into Severus’s bed since Saturday. He’d been a bit sneaky about that one the first time; engaging Severus in conversation beforehand as he pulled on the pyjamas he’d left there the night before and slid beneath the sheets. He’d gotten a raised eyebrow for his troubles, but nothing more.

Whether or not Severus slept in his own bedroom that night, Harry didn’t know, but he had returned by the next morning; writing at the desk with his back to the rest of the room.

“Morning,” yawned Harry.

Severus turned to look at him after stamping an envelope delicately. “Good morning,” he said, looking Harry, who had basically thrown his clothes on after his shower, up and down critically.

Harry wandered over to him. “Looks like serious business,” he commented, nodding at the envelope marked with Severus’s own personal wax seal.

“It is.” Severus placed the letter down on the desk, regarded Harry thoughtfully for a few seconds, and then took his hand to pull him closer. He began straightening his collar for him, thumbs brushing against the sensitive skin of Harry’s neck as he did so. “Did you sleep all right?”

“Yes, fine thanks.” Harry stood there, allowing Severus to gently tug him about while he corrected more areas of his apparel. He wanted to ask where he’d been; if he really was okay, and what the serious business was, but he knew it wouldn’t be a smart move. “Don’t you get nightmares?” he settled for asking him.

“Rarely.”

“Is that because of your Occlumency?”

Severus finished off his ministrations by pulling Harry’s robes straight. “In part.”

“When did you learn it?”

“I came across Legilimency first, during my early school years. However, I quickly saw that there would be no point in practicing that, if I could not defend my own mind in turn. The more I studied Occlumency, the more I realised it would be an even greater asset. How great, I couldn’t have imagined back then – still, I began training from the age of thirteen.”

“Do you – do you think I should try it again?” Harry really didn’t want a repeat of their Occlumency lessons, but he knew he needed a more permanent solution to these nightmares.

Severus stood, cupping Harry’s face in his hands. “Your nightmares are no longer due to a connection with Voldemort or anyone else.” He pushed Harry’s fringe back with his thumb, stroking over his scar. “He is dead, and the Horcrux inside you destroyed. All that you are vulnerable to is trauma and anxiety, and while you perhaps have more bad memories than is common, it is only natural for them to resurface. This is not something you can use Occlumency for as a shield, but... learning to clear your mind, particularly before going to sleep, may help.”

Harry gazed up at Severus as he spoke; examining the harsh lines and angles of his face, seeking out the occasional small wrinkle that only served to make the man look even more like himself. “You say his name now,” he said quietly, not really as a question; his heart thumping almost audibly.

Severus released him tentatively. “Yes.”

Harry nodded in acceptance. “Maybe I should just practice clearing my mind, then. I never did get far.” He felt embarrassed all of a sudden. The lessons in his fifth year had been such a disaster, but not entirely down to Severus’s failings.

“If you wish to do so, I am willing to help – although I understand if you would prefer to be alone, or train with someone else. I would not intrude on your mind this time. Merely help you empty it.”

“Thank you.” Harry smiled, and made to move towards the portrait hole, when Severus spoke again.

“Although, if there is something in particular bothering you, the best thing may be to deal with it?” he said.

Harry looked back at him. “ – Deal with it?” he repeated uncertainly.

“Confront it somehow – even if the only way to do so may be through discussion.”

Harry stared at him, feeling both parts touched and rather uncomfortable. Severus was obviously concerned about him, as he was for Severus. The pair of them both wanted to know something about the other, and clearly neither one was willing to share anything. Harry was certain that if he told Severus the things at the core of many of his dreams, the man would decide his concern had been misplaced. And, whatever Severus was keeping from Harry, he clearly felt was nothing to do with him.

“I don’t think it’s something in particular,” Harry said finally.

It was a lie, but his issues with the Dursleys didn’t exactly boil down to _one_ thing. And this was surely just a temporary problem, anyway? His mind had probably exhausted all the frightening things he’d encountered during his teen years, and now it was just picking up on stupid things that would mean very little in the long run of his life.

Severus watched him. “No?” he said.

Harry shook his head and replied, “Thank you for your advice, though.”

They left the tower together and went to breakfast, Harry keenly aware of Severus beside him the entire way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again guys. I'm skipping through the weeks a bit as you can see but there will be some pauses on the important parts, and I promise there will be a couple more glimpses of Harry's classes here and there too. Stay safe everyone, and hope you enjoy!


	19. Hermione's Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and his friends celebrate Hermione’s birthday.

Hermione was late for her birthday dinner. The very idea of taking a day off for her own birthday was not something she would ever indulge, and Harry suspected she wouldn’t have been able to anyway. Still, it gave everyone the time to prepare Grimmauld Place in advance, and so they made the most of it.

Harry, Luna and Ginny arrived early to clean and decorate the dining room on the ground floor. It was the room that had changed the least since Harry inherited the house, although he’d painted it cornflower blue and polished up the floor and all the rather grand fixtures. He found it a little too posh for his tastes, preferring to eat down in the perfectly spacious kitchen instead. He’d considered turning the dining room into the lounge until it was pointed out to him by Andromeda that all the original features and furniture might appeal to the more traditional wizarding buyer, if he ever wished to sell it. It was also the perfect space for events, so he’d held off making any drastic changes to it. It was the kind of room Aunt Petunia would love to have had; palatial, spotless, and rarely used.

Luna had made a large, golden banner that read _Happy Birthday Hermione_ , and Harry charmed the letters to sparkle and change colour from time to time. Wands aloft, they both carefully hung it over the large mirror above the mantelpiece, as Ginny spelled blue ribbons to tie onto the two brass chandeliers that dangled above the long table. Ron and George were helping their mother in the kitchen, and their father had just arrived back from work and been permitted to give a tour of the house to Ian and Jean, Hermione’s parents.

At six o’clock George and Ron came up, the latter looking rather sheepish having been caught sneaking food by their mother. Harry, Ginny, Luna and George each took a corner of the only cloth massive enough to fit the dining room table, while Ron lit the fire and started blowing up balloons. When the tablecloth was on, Harry ran his wand over the fabric, ironing out all the lines and wrinkles, growing frustrated with how long it was taking until he realised George was re-creasing it behind him.

“Oi!”

George cackled, but promptly waved his wand at the tablecloth, smoothing the entire thing out in one go. Harry couldn’t hold his glare for even a second before he started laughing too.

At that moment, a tall figure appeared in the doorway and Harry blinked and then beamed when he saw it was Severus. “I thought you were away this evening?” he said, practically skipping over as everyone else stopped what they were doing to gawp at them.

Severus was eyeing them all in a way that would doubtless make anyone feel as though they ought to be in class or something. “I am,” he stated coldly. “You forgot this.” He held something out and Harry realised it was the jacket he'd intended to wear and must have left somewhere in their tower. “I was going to leave it for you in the kitchen, but Mrs Weasley seemed to think you’d be incapable of finding it. Then again, she may be right.”

Harry smiled even wider and took the jacket from him. “Thank you,” he said. “You won’t stay for a drink, then?” He looked up at him hopefully. The man may have gone back to his offensive ways, but right now, and not for the first time, Harry recognised it for what it was; defensiveness. Severus was trying to protect himself. He seemed to snap out of it a little, and began looking Harry up and down. They hadn’t seen each other before Harry left for Grimmauld Place as Severus had been elsewhere after classes, and he’d declined Hermione’s invitation earlier that morning. Harry was wearing a fairly new, dark shirt, and jeans that were a rather close fit to his thin frame. He’d also made sure to shave, and make an attempt on his hair with some gel before coming. He looked about as presentable as he could get.

“I’m afraid not,” replied Severus after a pause. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You aren’t.”

Severus cast his gaze around the room, narrowing his eyes at Ron and George who were still openly staring at him. “I see you’ve made quite the effort for Miss Granger," he remarked. "One would think you were expecting the Minister for Magic.”

  
“You could say we’re preparing for that eventuality,” said Ginny wryly as she passed by with more balloons. Severus’s gaze flicked over to her suspiciously.

“You should see it at Christmas,” Harry said to him. “You – you will be around, won’t you? Sorry, I’d sort of planned ahead to have it here with everyone. But you should definitely come!” He became extremely aware of everyone else in the room holding their breath, but that didn’t matter. He wanted to spend Christmas with Severus.

Severus was very still, his attention brought firmly back to Harry. “I would rather not be present if your aunt is expected to attend,” he said quietly.

Harry frowned. “My – oh, you mean Aunt _Petunia_? Well, no fear of that.”

Severus opened his mouth to say something else, when a loud, raspberry noise filled the room. Ron had let an untied balloon slip out of his grasp.

Severus straightened up. “Please wish Miss Granger many happy returns. See you on Sunday, Harry. Everyone.” With a curt nod of the head, he left.

There was silence for a moment, and then everyone turned to look at Harry.

“ _Harry_?” said Ron incredulously. “Since when were you _Harry_?”

“I’m a bit insulted you don’t remember yourself, Ron,” Harry answered primly.

Ron rolled his eyes. “You _know_ what I’m getting at. He’s always called you ‘Potter.’ Anything to put you down where he can. Something you want to tell us?”

“Well, he can’t call me Potter if we’re supposed to be in love, can he?” asked Harry. “I suppose he’s finally got into the habit.”

“Blegh! Don’t talk about Snape and love!”

“Why not, Ron?” Luna asked mildly. “This is Harry’s marriage, after all.”

“But it’s not a real marriage. And it’s not the _Harry_ part I object to – ”

George wolf-whistled as Ginny gave a solemn nod and said, “I always suspected.”

“And you – you invited him for _Christmas_ ,” said Ron, his ears now very red.

“He’s invited anyway,” said Harry, sticking his chin out slightly in defiance. “We live together. And the marriage is real... in the _legal_ sense.”

“He did seem to be in a much more positive space,” said Luna. “You know that’s very good for keeping Bogles at bay?”

“Things were definitely a bit charged there, mate,” George said to Harry.

Harry sighed, blushing almost as much as Ron. Hearing his best friend dismiss his and Severus’s marriage – and by extension – their relationship as ‘not real’ had hurt more than he was willing to show. But Ron hadn’t been around to witness the changes between him and Severus, nor had he actually witnessed the man’s memories. Although he’d been willing to forgive his Death Eater ways on Harry’s word, he evidently still saw him as their tyrannical Potions teacher. He was, in his own way, trying to defend Harry from Severus’s previous treatment of him; of them all. Harry realised that he would have to have a conversation with his friends sooner or later. Perhaps Ron was right about this thing between him and Severus not being real – but they had definitely become closer in recent weeks, in every sense of the term. Severus hadn’t asked him _not_ to talk about it, and look at what he’d just done; Floo’d over from Hogwarts just to make sure Harry had his jacket. Surely that meant there was something genuine between them, even if it wasn’t love?

Thinking of the word ‘love’ made Harry’s chest ache, and he said, “Things have been really great, actually.”

The other four all watched him quizzically; Luna seeming more politely interested than shocked, and Ginny more knowing.

“Look,” said Harry. “It’s Hermione’s birthday. It’s no big deal, but I don’t want to get into this right now.”

“You’re right,” said George, looking at the others. “She shouldn’t be left out of this.”

“No, no – we won’t talk about this today. There’s nothing... _urgent_ to tell you.”

“But there is... something?” asked Ron tentatively.

Harry nodded once. “There is.” What that something actually _was_ remained to be seen. He’d kind of sprung the Christmas proposal on Severus, but at least the offer was out there. He only hoped he would be willing to be there on the day, even if only for a couple of hours or something.

~o~

Hermione looked rather tired when she finally arrived to cheers and hugs at Grimmauld Place, accompanied by Angelina Johnson.

“I found her glaring at some files right by the telephone box exit,” laughed Angelina. “Had to practically carry her here.”

“Sorry everyone, I lost track of the time!” gasped Hermione, still stuffing papers into her bag.

Ginny and Luna quickly herded her upstairs for a shower, a change of clothes and a quick application of makeup, so that she wouldn’t glimpse the dining room before they were ready. When Hermione arrived back down she looked really quite glamorous with her dark, bushy hair worn partially down and the rest pinned on top of her head. Growing up was suiting her more and more each day, although Harry _had_ always thought she had more the personality of a forty-five-year-old.

She made to go down to the kitchen, but George stopped her, redirecting her towards the dining room instead. “You don’t want to go down there,” he said. “Mum fell asleep and burned everything.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, not fooled for a moment. “Very funny. Are we having dinner in the big room – ?”

The door opened.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

“Oh my goodness!” Hermione cried as she walked in and looked about all wide-eyed. “You said it would be a simple dinner – this is _lovely_.”

Decorated and shimmering in candlelight, the normally sparse dining room was now warm and inviting.

“Thank you – thank you all so much! You shouldn’t have – ”

“’Course we should have,” Ron muttered fondly.

Ian and Jean, who had been hiding inside, rushed over to their daughter to kiss and hug her, joined not long after by Molly and Arthur.

At twenty-past eight, all eleven of them finally sat down to a rather grand dinner of summer vegetables, pasta dishes and pie. Harry was seated between Ron and Molly. As was becoming the norm, he caught Molly up on how his classes were going and assured her that Severus was behaving himself. Across from them, Jean was describing a favourite television program of hers to Arthur, who was hanging on to her every word, while Ian questioned Ginny about Quidditch with a troubled expression on his face. George and Angelina were pulling faces at each other and arguing over their favourite bands whilst most likely playing footsie under the table. Ron and Luna were laughing about something together, while between them sat Hermione; her cheeks glowing with pure happiness as she ate, observing them all with deep affection as the flickering light was reflected in her dark eyes.

“Were we still planning on going out later?” asked Luna.

“Yes, I think so?” said Hermione, looking around at them all. “It’s not like we get many opportunities these days.”

At that, Harry reminded himself not to fall into a drowsy state, and took a few gulps of water. None of them were really massive party animals, and indeed wizarding youth culture was still a rather tentative thing, but it was still nice to get out once in a while. Harry, Ron, Hermione (and Neville, when he was with them) in particular risked being recognised and hounded in magical areas, and so they had discovered for themselves that going out into Muggle London usually guaranteed more privacy.

Luna nodded. “It’s a shame Neville couldn’t make it this time," she said.

“He’ll be back in the country soon,” replied Hermione. “Oh, and he sent me the most gorgeous potted shrub for today.”

“Apparently he’s coming to Hogwarts,” said Harry.

“Good, you can ask him if he met anyone in Japan!”

When they had all finished dinner, Ian brought up his daughter’s cake from the kitchen; looking rather nervous of the little fireworks supplied by George that actually shot whirling, multicoloured sparks high into the air above the surface of the icing. Hermione made a wish, and managed to blow out all the candles and sparklers without singeing her hair to great applause. After that, she began opening all her presents. She mostly received books, and was delighted with every one of them; lovingly arranging them into a tower that came up to her middle.

Later, the girls all disappeared upstairs again to get ready, while Harry, Ron and George cleared all the plates. Ian and Jean hovered awkwardly; looking as though they very much wanted to offer some help but already knew it would be unnecessary.

“Hermione always zaps everything away when she visits,” remarked Ian as three empty plates whizzed passed his head. “Any day you don’t have to do the washing up is pretty marvellous, but one does feel a bit useless.”

“Don’t even think on it,” Molly chided gently. “You put all that effort into the lovely cake and salads.”

“And then you _drove_ all the way here,” praised Arthur, as though driving a car was on par with riding a penny-farthing.

“Actually, we came on the Underground today,” said Jean.

“Oh?”

“Yes, the traffic’s awful in London, and it’s really very bad for the environment.”

Arthur leaned in. “Fascinating,” he said, and began to question the Grangers on how and why cars were causing a problem.

A few minutes later, Hermione emerged with slightly more make up and rather less skirt length. The Grangers were unfazed and complimented all the girls on how they looked. Molly seemed content to let them take the lead in what was appropriate for their daughter to wear, but she still eyed the hem of Hermione’s skirt and Ginny’s low neckline apprehensively.

“Close your mouth, mother,” murmured Ginny as she approached, and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Yes – well...” stuttered Molly, before giving herself a little shake. “You all – look lovely.”

The youngsters all rallied around Angelina who explained where they were going. “We’ll have to apparate into this little alley,” she said, showing them all on a curious little rolling map of London. “And then make our way down here.”

After saying goodbye to Molly, Arthur, Ian and Jean, one by one they left through the front exit; Hermione, Ron, Luna, Harry, Ginny, George and Angelina.

“Have fun!” called Jean, waving after them, as Molly stood beside her in the doorway looking as though they’d all been sent off to war again.

Before reaching the boundary where they would be visible to the Muggles, the seven of them apparated, finding themselves in a miserable little alleyway by some bins.

“Sorry, best place to arrive without being seen,” said Angelina.

“You really know how to make a night of it,” said George, and wandered over to one of the bins, arms aloft. “Happy Birthday, Hermione. We hope it’s everything you dreamed of.”

They all made their way along the narrow space towards the noise of vehicles beeping and rushing past. The evenings were definitely cold now, but they plodded on, the girls valiantly sporting their skimpier outfits. Luna was the one exception with a big, fluffy orange coat over her thin dress, and what had to be customized boots with sequins all over them.

The place Angelina had recommended was loud and a bit smoky, but it also had three friendly-looking bartenders (who offset the rather grumpy bouncer at the door), several decent seating areas, a large dance floor, and no sticky carpets in sight. They all sat around a large, circular table and everyone except Harry watched in trepidation as Hermione began sorting through some Muggle money dumped on the table by a clueless George. “It’s really very simple,” she said. “Look – the numbers are _written_ on them.”

Ginny shook her head. “But what’s a galleon – I mean – ” she began.

“Pound.”

“And what’s the other thing?” said George.

“ _Pence_.”

“And why is it paper?” asked Ron. “Why on Earth would you make money out of _paper_? What’s _that_ worth its weight in?”

Hermione sighed. “Look – why don’t I get the first round and show you?”

“No!” said everyone.

“ _I’ll_ get the first round,” said Harry, scooping up some notes. “It’s your birthday, just sit and enjoy yourself.”

Ron hovered behind Harry as he ordered at the bar, eyeing the money in his hand. The woman serving him frowned slightly when she caught sight of him. “Er, is that bloke with you?” she asked Harry under her breath. “I think he's got his eye on your wallet.”

Harry laughed. “No – no, sorry he’s – Yes, he’s with me. He’s not from here. He’s confused by our money.”

The woman’s eyes widened in understanding. “Ah, got you.”

A few drinks along, and everyone had settled into their surroundings. At half-ten, the music seemed to get much louder and faster, and Hermione, Ginny, George and Angelina all went for a dance, while Harry remained at their table with Ron, and Luna’s coat. Harry could see Luna (whose round it was) talking with two men at the bar who looked absolutely enraptured and at the same time as though they had no idea what to make of her. Harry kept glancing over to check on things but knew she would likely be fine. Luna was deceptively good at rebounding unwanted attention with her vague yet probing questions and impenetrably calm demeanour.

“So,” said Ron loudly over the din. “What’s happening with you and Snape?”

Harry eyed him for a moment, before relenting just slightly. “It’s fine,” he said. “We – we’re getting on well, I think.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Ron looked troubled. “Mate, you know I want to support you where I can, but I also can’t support you if you don’t _tell_ me anything.”

Harry blinked, and then he sighed. “I know, I’m sorry,” he said, too softly for Ron to hear, but he knew he understood. He looked down at his hands.

“Just – ” Ron continued. “The age gap thing’s not that big of a deal in the wizarding world and everything, but... the man terrorised you.”

“I... yes.”

Ron’s next response got lost amongst a particularly rowdy group of men on the other side of the room cheering.

_"What?”_ Harry asked, tilting his head closer.

“...I thought you _hated_ him!” said Ron.

Harry looked up at him then, Ron’s gaze hard with concern. “I used to,” he admitted, raising his voice again as a fast bass line kicked in. “Not anymore. I’m sorry I haven’t told you anything. It’s so much better with him now, but it’s still so complicated.”

“ _I’ll_ say,” said Ron. “You know you _can_ tell me?”

“I will.”

They grinned at each other for a moment.

“Hermione’s going to be furious she missed out on this heart-to-heart,” said Harry finally.

“Well, I’m glad,” Ron replied. “We don’t talk as much anymore. No one ever trusts me with this kind of stuff. At least not at first.”

At that, Harry felt bad. “I’m sorry.”

Ron waved him off. “I know I’m not exactly subtle,” he admitted. “But I do care, Harry.” The smile slowly left his face. “If he hurts you I won’t be held responsible for my actions.”

Harry laughed. “You’re _such_ an older brother,” he said, looking over at Luna again, who looked very much as though she was reading the palm of one of the men now.

“I mean it, Harry. You might be the Chosen One but I won’t stand for anyone treating you like shit.”

Harry looked back at Ron, and was struck by how incredibly uncomfortable his friend looked. “You all right?” he called.

“Harry – we never really talked about – ”

The music peaked at that moment, a loud, thumping bass starting and apparently not about to let up.

_“What?”_ Harry asked again.

_“We never – oh, bugger it!”_ Ron shook his head.

Harry chuckled, still straining to hear him. _“What?”_

_“I’m worried about you!”_

Harry shook his head again. In the noisy haze, and a bit of alcohol pumping through his bloodstream, it all just seemed so trivial. Things between him and Severus could end in disaster, but the man would never really _hurt_ him. _“Don’t be!”_ he said, and put a hand on Ron’s arm, waiting for the music to dip slightly so that he could be heard. “Let’s dance!”

At half-past eleven, George regretfully announced that he needed to leave as he was opening the shop the next morning and had left Lee Jordan to cash up. He and Angelina both said their goodbyes and wished Hermione a final happy birthday, before stumbling off into the night.

Three hours later, what remained of their group finally began to disperse, taking their cue when Hermione started declaring, “I can’t be seen drinking! I work for the government!” to an amused group of men who had wandered over to try their luck.

Ron had remained pretty sober, and so it was he who gave Hermione a piggyback and held her shoes until they could safely flag down the Knight Bus.

Stan Shunpike didn’t seem to mind Harry, Luna and Ginny ‘surfing’ the beds on the bus. (“As long as you stay sitting. No standing on the beds, please!”) It was the only thing that was going to keep them all from falling asleep, so they kept at it the entire journey, muffling their giggles as much as possible so as not to wake any of the snoring passengers upstairs.

Hermione was looking a little green when they finally reached Grimmauld Place, and she disappeared into the ground floor bathroom for a bit as everyone else, barring Luna, filed down the stairs to the kitchen for some water and leftovers. Luna assured Ron that she would hold Hermione’s hair back if necessary, and also waved a little vial of hangover solution at him that she must have had in her coat pocket all night.

“Maybe we should all just live here again,” mused Ron between mouthfuls of chicken pie when they were seated around the table. “I mean – who needs privacy? We could all be happy here. Me, Hermione, you –” he pointed at Harry. “Luna, Neville, George and Angie...”

“Snape,” said Ginny.

“Screw it – even him.”

Harry stretched out in his chair and smiled at the ceiling. “That’d be nice,” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter turned out really complex to write for some reason. I hope everyone enjoyed it! Snape following Harry to give him a jacket/cloak and Harry wanting him to be there for Christmas is straight out of The Marriage Stone, so credit to Josephine Darcy. Thank you all for your support <3


	20. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang recover from last night’s revelry. Ron and Hermione have their questions about Harry and Severus.

Hermione was a little worse for wear the next day; scowling into a glass of water with her feet drawn up beneath her on the cream-coloured sofa. From about ten o’clock, all of them had started emerging from various bedrooms and making their way downstairs to the front room, still in pyjamas and blankets. Ron and Luna were both still half-asleep, and so Harry and Ginny took it upon themselves to go and find some breakfast.

Harry boiled the kettle and prepared five mugs, while Ginny loaded some bread slices into the toaster and then rifled through the fridge looking for butter. The pair of them amused themselves by placing a bet on where Ron and Hermione kept their jam; Harry guessing it was in one of the overhead cupboards above the sugar jars, and Ginny adamant it would be in the fridge. They were both wrong; it was in one of the larger drawers beneath where the toaster was.

“I was closer,” Harry argued teasingly, but Ginny was having none of it.

“ _No_ win,” she said, and stuck her tongue out at him.

Harry was grateful for the pleasant atmosphere between them. Their discussions could sometimes begin a little strained, though certainly not through any anger or resentment. At these moments things were tentative at best, awkward at worst. Harry supposed it came back to their unfulfilled romantic past. Their relationship had been cut short, and then the possibility of anything continuing simply petered out after the war. Were it not for Voldemort, had they been an ordinary witch and wizard, they could well have had something together, but now they would never know. And Harry still thought Ginny beautiful, still found her strength and courage deeply attractive; still enjoyed her company, and would always hold her in the highest respect. But now their previous flirtations were a mere curiosity to him. He’d never even had a sexual relationship with a woman, but couldn’t say with any certainty that he wouldn’t have been interested. As for her feelings, he wasn’t sure. She was no longer a blushing, stammering, clumsy little girl who was unable to contain her emotions. If there was any lingering interest there, even a spark, she was keeping it to herself.

Between them they began assembling two trays; one with a pot of tea, a large jug of coffee and a small one of milk, a strainer and five mugs, and the other with the sugar jar, a plate stacked high with toast, some butter, a jar of jam and a jar of peanut butter, five empty plates and a few butter knives.

As Harry was pouring hot water into the teapot, Ginny wiped up a bit of milk with a wet cloth, and once she’d chucked it into the sink, she looked over at him.

“Harry – were you all right last night?” she asked carefully.

  
Harry looked up at her, puzzled. “Last night? Yeah – I was fine.”

“I meant after we’d all gone to bed. You got up, and before that... I heard you.”

Harry went a bit pink. He had a vague recollection of stumbling to the bathroom at some point in the night; still sweaty, and his heart racing from the alcohol in his bloodstream and whatever terror that had awoken him.

Ginny was still watching him. “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it,” she said. “But I’ve found it can help. I still get nightmares sometimes. I’ve – you know, I’ve always had them about the diary and everything since first year. These days they’re usually about the war – getting caught by the Carrows, or seeing you dead, and you’re _really_ dead this time. And... and I wasn’t there when Fred died, but...” She looked away. “I still see him a lot. Sometimes it’s wonderful. And sometimes it’s awful.”

The toaster went off then, Harry watched as Ginny silently removed the toast and then put a second load of bread in. He wondered, for a strange moment, if she’d been talking to Severus, but knew it highly unlikely.

She turned back to him, her brown eyes shining. “It sounded bad.”

Harry nodded. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Don’t be silly.”

“I’m – I’m dreaming about weird stuff recently. Not so much about the war, either. It’s odd, but it feels like they’re getting worse, too.”

Ginny nodded. “What kinds of weird stuff?”

Harry opened his mouth, trying to tell the same half-truth as he’d told Severus, but found nothing would come out.

“Do you talk about it with him?” Ginny asked softly, when he didn’t say anything.

“Severus?” At Ginny’s nod, Harry shrugged. “I – we have talked. He was really... _nice_.” He laughed self-consciously. “He gave me some Dreamless Sleep. Sat up with me.”

“That’s good. Keep talking about them with him, it will definitely help.”

Harry hesitated, wanting to explain that he _couldn’t_ ; that his absurd, childish nightmares were not something he wanted to bother Severus with. Instead, he asked, “Do you... have someone?”

Ginny tilted her head meaningfully. “To talk to?”

“Well, that too, but – you know?”

Ginny smiled. “There was someone for a while. It was difficult, though – we’re both just too wrapped up in Quidditch.”

“Is that so bad?” Harry joked.

“No – in the end it was all very friendly and easy.”

“I’m sorry, though.”

Ginny shrugged, and they both jumped slightly as the toaster went off again. “It’s funny,” she said. “About two years ago I was so worried about not having someone, and now I’m not worried about it at all.”

“You’re only twenty-two, Gin!”

“Yeah. Time for freedom and fun, I think. At practice this week I nearly got a Bludger full in the face. Fell right off dodging it – Not high up, mind you. Dislocated elbow – absolulte agony, but no big deal. But before I threw up, I was lying there in the mud for a few moments thinking, ‘I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.’”

Harry smiled. “That’s brilliant.”

She nodded. “I hope you get that. If you don’t have it already.”

~o~

When Harry and Ginny returned upstairs, levitating the trays before them, Luna was sitting up on the back of the sofa behind Hermione, lightly combing her fingers through her hair and going on about keeping the air around you clear of Neskies. Harry didn’t imagine that Hermione believed a word of it, but the combing must have felt nice, because she was allowing it without a word.

“Good birthday, ‘Mione?” Ron asked her as he passed over some toast.

“Too good,” Hermione grumbled, taking the plate from him.

Still rather woozy from their late night, the five of them all sat and watched a film together as they munched on toast and drank tea and coffee. Ron objected slightly to the ‘representation of magic’ in _Mary Poppins_ and its ‘silly songs and cartoons’, but did not take his eyes off the screen the entire time. Hermione, meanwhile, drew Ginny and Luna into a half-hearted debate as to how many violations Mary Poppins would have committed were she a real witch caring for a Muggle family.

  
After the film, Ginny had to leave to get ready for a team meeting, and Luna decided to go, too.

“Are you sure, Luna?” Hermione asked, when both girls returned from upstairs fully dressed. “You’re welcome to stay.”

“That’s all right,” said Luna warmly. “Besides, you can both talk to Harry about Severus, now. Happy Birthday, Hermione!”

The two girls left Ron, Hermione and Harry in a slightly awkward silence, until Harry broke it by saying, “Go on, then.”

“Have you had sex with him?” Ron asked immediately.

“Ron!” Hermione scolded, but she side-eyed Harry for his response.

“Yes,” said Harry, blushing.

Ron exhaled noisily. Hermione nodded. “ _Well_ – I – You are of age,” she said with a small, uncertain shrug.

“When did this start?” Ron demanded. “ _How_ did it start?”

Harry swallowed. “You know after you guys announced your engagement?” he said, and both of their eyes widened, clearly surprised at how long ago it was. “I came home and he was back early. He didn’t seem to want anything at first, so I put Teddy to bed, and then I came down here and he was waiting for me with a glass of wine...” Harry paused again, remembering the intensity in Severus’s eyes that night. “And... and we talked a bit about Hogwarts and teaching... and Defence came up, and – and my class... and then one thing led to another, and I could tell something was going to happen. I panicked. Stood up – I was going to leave... but then he – he kissed me.”

Ron’s eyes darted around the room, as if expecting to find evidence of the kissing somewhere. “Just like that?” he said.

“Pretty much. I mean – he did _ask_.”

“Oh,” Hermione whispered.

“And then – what?” said Ron. “You had sex?”

“...No – he just sort of walked out and then I didn’t see him for a day. Remember, I came to see you?”

“Yeah – Yeah! You – why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because if _I_ didn’t know what to make of it, what would _you_ have done?”

“ _Still_ – ” At Hermione’s look, Ron deflated slightly. “...So, what happened after that?”

Harry rearranged himself on the red armchair as he tried to remember the details of that day. “So, I didn’t see or hear from him. And the next day I woke up and thought to hell with it, I’m going out and if he wants to talk he can come and find me. So I got up, and I was on my way out when he stopped me. Asked where I was going. When I said I was going to Diagon Alley he just decided he was coming, too.”

“This was the day you were photographed by the _Prophet_ ,” said Hermione in realisation.

“That’s it. He was just sort of... normal. Didn’t say anything about the kiss, and so I didn’t either. We had breakfast and went shopping, people started recognising us so I suggested he go back home while I got new robes, but he insisted on coming with me. When we were in Madam Malkin’s...” Harry hesitated again, wondering if he should tell them about the next bit.

“Yeah?” asked Ron, a bit more gently now.

“So, the thing is... that’s where I first met Malfoy. He was having his robes fitted at the same time as me when we were eleven. So, Madam Malkin – she remembered this – and reminded me, and so I told Severus about it. And – well – I’d already mentioned that I’d seen Lucius Malfoy – _and_ Draco, now I think about it – in Borgin & Burkes the summer after that, and it obviously struck a nerve, because when we got back home... Severus just _started_ on me about Malfoy – especially what happened during sixth year. Went on about how I’d followed him, and – nearly killed him – ”

“Git,” said Ron, as Hermione frowned. “It was his own fault – if you hadn’t tried to defend yourself – !”

“He wasn’t _wrong_ , though.” Harry sighed. “I think at the time – I think I just figured he was letting me have it over things he’d kept bottled up for ages. I didn’t just _take_ it. I argued my case. But other stuff came up. The Occlumency lessons. The Pensieve disaster. The thing is... Merlin – it was so confusing. We were both so angry. He then went back to Malfoy, but this time he – he insinuated that I’d basically stalked Malfoy because I’d... well, fancied him or something!”

Ron blinked, apparently as confused as Harry had been that night. But Hermione sat back on the sofa, clearly not surprised, but deep in thought.

“I just didn’t know what to think, or say. He said – he said he knew we went back to rescue him during the Battle of Hogwarts, and that Draco had been obsessed with me when we were younger, to the point where Lucius Malfoy once considered the possibility of us _marrying_.”

“Oh, _that_ doesn’t surprise me,” Ron interrupted in disgust.

“ – It doesn’t?” Harry asked.

“No. Lucius Malfoy’s always been a manipulative, greedy bastard. I’ll bet you a thousand Galleons he instructed _Draco_ to approach you in the first place.”

“But not to... _try_ anything, surely? We were kids!”

“Oh, no – but join your social circle? Or rather – get you into his? Definitely. A wedding would just have been a bonus.”

“What happened next with Severus?” Hermione interrupted gently, still looking contemplative.

“Well... I was confused,” explained Harry. “ _Really_ confused. I got a bit – overwhelmed with everything, and then we – we kissed again. He asked me if I was all right. Then he led me upstairs and... you know.”

They all went quiet for a moment.

“He didn’t hurt you,” Ron stated, but there was a hint of anger in his voice.

“Not at all. It was – After that – we just... kept ending up in bed together. And... well, we haven’t... not for a few days – ” Harry was sure he had to be puce in the face by now. “But we sometimes sleep together afterwards, too.”

“He’s still a git,” said Ron. “For going off on you.”

“He hasn’t done it since. I think he was – I think he was a bit jealous.”

Hermione actually let out a small laugh then. “Harry, I don’t think he was ‘a bit’ jealous. I think he was – is – _very_ jealous. He’s clearly been attracted to you for some time.”

Harry looked at her desperately. “Really? Do you think so? But what if... what if he just... wants sex?”

“I just don’t think he would have gone about it this way if that were the case.”

“You think? I don’t know. This sort of thing doesn’t come easily to me. I don’t really know what I’m doing – I just know I – I like it. It’s not just – sex. Well, not for _me_ , but he’s been really decent. I know it seems weird – I know we have this bad history, and he _was_ my teacher and everything – ”

“It is a _bit_ weird,” Ron admitted, nodding.

“But, Harry _is_ of age,” said Hermione, “and it’s not as though Severus tried anything when we were younger.” Her gaze suddenly hardened. “He _didn’t_ , did he, Harry?”

Harry gaped. “No! Merlin – no. I... I suppose _I_ had a bit of a crush on the Half Blood Prince in sixth year. I know that seems ridiculous as I didn’t know who he was, but... I suppose I had a picture in my mind of who he might be – what kind of man. I liked the idea of having him all to myself. Is that really fucked up?”

“Only a bit, mate,” said Ron, but he said it kindly.

“No – Harry, you were a teenager,” said Hermione. “You had a fantasy about a stranger, you were hardly the first. Although... I’ll admit now I _had_ wondered.”

Harry groaned, rubbing his forehead. “If this goes wrong, what do I do? We live together, work together, we’re _married_. Even if he decides he’s not interested anymore we still need to stay close until he’s fully better. Merlin knows how long that will take. And I... I don’t want him to leave.”

Hermione sighed. “I think you need to talk to him.”

It was exactly what Harry had known she was going to say. “What if that screws everything up?” he said. “You know what he can be like with questions. He’s still so private. I don’t think we’re there – not yet, anyway.”

“But Harry – you deserve to know what the situation is!”

“Yeah,” said Ron. “I mean – it isn’t fair, him getting his rocks off with you, and you none the wiser.”

Harry frowned. “That makes it sound like I don’t know he’s having sex with me.” He and Ron dissolved into chuckles for a moment. “I – I _do_ know. And I – I like it!”

Hermione rolled her eyes and tried to bring them back to the point. “Perhaps you could just make it clear that you’re open to starting an official relationship – a real one? It would be a start.”

Harry fought the grin off his face. “And then what do I do when he rejects me?”

“Then he’s not worth your time.”

Harry stared at her; mirth vanished.

Hermione crossed her arms. “Stay with him to keep him alive if you must. I suspect he’s reaching the point where he doesn’t need you around all the time, though?” Harry nodded awkwardly. “Stay married to him to keep the public off your backs. But don’t let him drain your happiness, Harry.”

Harry was quiet. Her words were full of anger and love on his behalf, but the implication hit him like a ton of bricks, even though he had considered it so many times before now. Severus might not want him. Severus might be using him, even if he considered them friends now. He’d been an idiot. It had only been a month since they’d first had sex, and already he’d allowed himself to get too involved with this... thing; too excited and too hopeful.

He’d never spoken to anyone else of Severus’s feelings for his mother. He wouldn’t betray the man’s trust by doing so now, not even as a means of explaining to his friends why he didn’t think he could talk things through with the man.

Hermione’s face was full of concern; he could feel the weight of her care for him under her gaze, and he knew he wasn’t going to start a fight with her on her birthday weekend. Ron looked rather grim again, as though he too had grasped the full meaning of Hermione’s words; of how badly things might end for Harry.

“I’ll think about it,” Harry said quietly.

“Good,” said Hermione, starting to look a bit awkward after her statement. “But... you know, for the record and everything, I really do believe he cares about you.”

“Well, thanks... I hope so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for continuing with this. Apologies for no Severus in this bit, he will definitely be in the next chapter. <3


	21. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry frets over how to approach things with Severus, before returning to him.

In the early hours of Sunday morning, Harry lay awake in Sirius’s old bedroom, his face buried in the pillow and his friends’ advice still ringing in his ears. Undoubtedly they were right – until he and Severus talked about things he could not be sure of where they were or where they were going, but he knew he would have to be careful going about it. If he rushed into a discussion it would be so easy to say the wrong thing, resulting in Severus getting angry, him getting angry, and then everything being ruined.

Growing uncomfortable, Harry huffed, and rolled over onto his back as he reminded himself to purchase a new mattress for this room. A small chink of light shone through the curtains onto the carved wooden panel at the foot of the bed. He looked around in the semi-darkness, imagining for a moment Sirius doing the same as an angry, unhappy teenager. Harry had reluctantly allowed Kreacher to blast off all the old plaster so he could redecorate, but managed to salvage a couple of the more tasteful Muggle posters and frame them in homage to his godfather. It was a shame, he mused, thinking of himself, Sirius and Severus all bitter and dejected in their respective family homes. They all had a lot in common in a way, but he supposed that Sirius’s rejection of the Blacks’ ways would only have intensified his dislike of Severus and the man’s staunch admiration of all things Slytherin. He would likely have a fit if he could see Harry now; pining wretchedly after his hated old enemy.

When, Harry wondered, had he become so afraid of facing his fears? Not that all his adventures during school and then the war had been a walk in the park, but he’d still been spurred into action each time. Suddenly, he recalled Dumbledore’s words at the end of his first year: “It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends.”

Perhaps that was it. It wasn’t easy to confront _anyone_ and demand their attention, but it was _easier_ when you had the rage of hatred to fuel you. Harry no longer hated Severus – he respected and liked him, and wanted to preserve and nurture this thing between them. He could not go just crashing into this.

He needed a plan.

Ron and Hermione would most likely urge him to speak with Severus as soon as possible; to get the subject out in the open at least. But Harry strongly felt that he ought to be cautious. There were a lot of things he had questions about, such as this mysterious business Severus kept disappearing off to attend to, and what about Professor Webb and their past dealings?

No, first things first. The biggest issue was the one surrounding the very nature of their relationship; what it actually was, and where it was headed. Tied up with that, was the ever-hovering problem of Severus’s feelings for Harry’s mother. _Perhaps_ it was possible for Severus to feel the same for them both – after all, Angelina had previously dated Fred, and it didn’t seem to be a problem with her or with George. But then, Fred and George were identical twins who, in spite of complaining dramatically whenever their other family members confused them, had seemed to share an almost symbiotic relationship. As far as Harry knew, Fred and Angelina had never shared anything like the rocky past Severus had with Lily, but somehow he imagined that whatever George and Angelina shared; whatever grief they were dealing with together, ran far deeper than anyone else, even the rest of the Weasley family, could possibly understand.

And then, what about Severus’s hatred of James Potter? While Harry was sure that it lingered even now, he was quite confident that Severus had finally separated him from his father in his mind’s eye. There wasn’t the unfiltered hatred and disdain between them anymore, but that awful history had still been the cause of so much anger and resentment from Severus in the first place. Perhaps Severus’s acceptance of him had started after Harry killed Voldemort – and avenged Lily – where he could not, but Harry hoped it was something more personal than that. He hoped Severus had, at the very least, begun to warm to Harry as his own person, and not just because of the sex.

Suddenly, more than ever, Harry found himself wishing his mother was alive – complications and all. Even if James Potter lived too, Severus would likely be just as besotted with her and not spare Harry another glance. But he found himself wanting to ask Lily herself advice. In reality, he knew people found asking relationship tips from their parents awkward, even mortifying, but he wanted to _understand_. He wanted to know what she’d make of Severus now; if she’d sympathise with Harry’s feelings for him, and like Ron and Hermione, encourage him to seek the full truth. Had she known that Severus was in love with her, and had she ever felt anything as intense in return? Had she still been as angry towards her once-friend at the time of her death, or had she believed the good in him would soon drive him from Voldemort’s influence? Could she ever have forgiven him?

Most of all, he wanted to understand how, why and when she’d fallen in love with James.

James, like Lily, remained an enigma to Harry. He loved him – with all his heart – even though all he really knew of him were images, ghosts and other people’s memories. But the veil of blind admiration he’d had for the man had been lifted, and he now accepted that his father had been a tyrannical bully in his youth. He’d _enjoyed_ tormenting Severus, and perhaps many others. At first Harry had wondered why, when by all accounts James had had a happy, stable childhood and plenty of friends. No doubt he’d been spoiled, but Harry didn’t think even Draco Malfoy had tormented _him_ as badly; but perhaps because Harry had the cushion of Ron and Hermione’s friendship to support and shield him. If Severus had shared anything nearly as close with anyone in Slytherin, that person had evidently not been present during that awful incident by the lake.

Since the war it had occurred to Harry that James must have become aware of Severus’s feelings for Lily at some point, or perhaps suspected their existence from the beginning. He supposed that if James had carried a torch for Lily since their early Hogwarts years, the very idea must have been intolerable to him. He recalled Sirius saying, “Severus was always a special case with James” and snorted. His father, too, would be rolling in his grave if he knew half the things that had been going on in the last few months.

Whatever the truth, James must have improved vastly by the time Lily agreed to go out with him. He must have really _proven_ himself somehow, like Severus had proven himself during the Second War.

But not for Harry. For _her_ – for Lily.

What _would_ she say now?

~o~

The three friends had another late morning rise, and even after a shower and change of clothes, Harry still felt faintly disgusting after the weekend’s indulgence. To round off an extremely lazy Saturday, there had been even more drinking, and by lunchtime on Sunday Hermione looked as though she’d been hit several times with a mixture of _Stupefy_ and _Petrificus Totalus_. She lay on the sofa with her head in Ron’s lap, staring up at the ceiling as he combed his fingers through her hair. The hangover cure she’d taken had already kicked in, but it would do nothing for her lethargy.

“Poor ‘Mione,” said Ron, smiling down at her. “What are we gonna do with you, eh?”

“Mergh,” Hermione replied quietly, closing her eyes.

“I know, I know.”

Harry grinned as he hoisted his bag up on his shoulder. “Well, I’m off,” he said. “Thanks for a good weekend.”

Ron looked up at him as Hermione hummed. “You too, mate.”

“Happy Birthday, Hermione.”

“Th-thanks,” Hermione sighed.

“Good luck with... everything,” said Ron, looking serious for a moment. “Keep us in the loop, yeah? And – you heard what ‘Mione said. Don’t let him take the piss.”

Harry nodded. “I won’t. Thanks.”

He bent down to give the pair of them a kiss each on the forehead; Hermione grumbling and Ron flushing bright red as he did so, and then said his goodbyes before leaving for Hogwarts. When he arrived, he was pleased to find Severus already back. The man was standing behind the sofa, looking very much as though he’d been pacing up and down just prior to Harry’s return. He made a beeline for Harry the moment he was clear of the hearth; sweeping him up into an embrace and kissing him hotly.

Harry had already finished all of his marking and lesson plans for the next week so that he wouldn’t have to worry about it over the weekend. This, combined with whatever was troubling Severus, had meant that there had been little time for sex in the last few days, and clearly they had both as frustrated as each other. He dropped his bag, and kissed Severus back eagerly; gripping the lapels of his waistcoat in both hands and standing on tiptoe for a better reach.

They ended up on the sofa together; Harry sitting sideways on Severus’s knee, their kisses growing lazier as they calmed.

“Hello,” Harry muttered when they finally separated.

“Afternoon,” said Severus, placing another little kiss on Harry’s cheek.

“Did your business get sorted out?”

“Not entirely. But it's reasonably in control. I trust you had an entertaining weekend?”

“Very.” Harry nuzzled at Severus’s neck a bit. He recalled Hermione’s impassioned words to him on Saturday, saw Ron and Ginny’s worried faces, and remembered all his thoughts during the night. Was it still too early, he wondered, to dive right into things? “Do you...” he began, wanting to make a start, but then he thought better of it. “Do you know if Enoch Jones’ parents replied?” he settled for asking.

“Yes, on Friday at the very last minute. I imagine he’s spent a busy weekend making a nuisance of himself in Hogsmeade with the rest of them.”

Harry smiled. “Oh, good.”

“Did Minerva respond to any of your inspirations?”

“Quiet so far, but it has to go through all the governors and everything.”

Severus gave a small sound of agreement, and took Harry’s right hand, looking over the scarring across the back of it. His face showed no emotion as the very faded, stretched words became visible in the midday light. Harry felt strange, wondering what he was thinking of – if he’d ever felt that Harry deserved Umbridge’s punishments. He wracked his brains for a moment for something else to say.

“You – you said it would be all right for me to bring Teddy here sometime,” he said finally.

“I did,” said Severus, stroking the back of Harry’s hand and then gently lowering it.

“Would next Sunday be all right with you? If I brought him back with me for the day?”

“Of course.”

Harry smiled. “Thank you. I think he’ll love the castle. I thought maybe I should wait until he starts school here, but then he’s already seen pictures of it.”

Severus watched him as he rambled on, his black eyes bottomless. “My suggesting you bring him here was not on proviso that you ask my permission," he said when Harry had finished. "This is your home, too.”

At this, Harry felt another pang of gratitude and hope. “I thought I should give you the heads up, though. Kids are noisy.”

“Indeed. I have taught hundreds of them.”

“Not _small_ children.”

“A simple alert to his arrival will do.”

“You’re sure?”

“You are clearly no mere babysitter to him. I must confess that before we married I was aware you were his godfather, but I had little comprehension of how dependent he would be on you.”

Harry hesitated. Severus did not sound resentful of the fact, but he couldn’t pinpoint the man’s tone. “It’s varied over the years,” he said, feeling himself start to ramble again, “depending on what I’m doing, or what Dromeda’s doing. I was ready to adopt him if she couldn’t look after him – she’d lost nearly everything. I wanted to do it, but she said she was fine. Said I had to focus on myself for a bit.”

“Quite right too. You would have been a seventeen-year-old parent.”

“Nearly eighteen. And it happens. _My_ parents were only twenty... Merlin, that’s weird to think about.”

“Yes. But without disparaging your incredible good will, you were in no fit state to care for a newborn.”

“I would have done, though.”

“I know. And no doubt you would have been more than competent, but you were still only a child yourself.”

“Of age.”

“Nevertheless.”

Despite his willingness, Harry supposed that he had _chosen_ to be so involved in Teddy’s life. Perhaps, on some level, it started as a way to try and fulfil with Teddy all the things he’d wanted to have with Sirius, or imagining how his life might have been if his own godfather hadn’t been imprisoned, and given permission to take Harry in. But who knew how that might really have turned out – Sirius had still been a twenty-year-old man in his mind, who had clearly seen James’s doppelgänger in Harry. He might have made an excellent guardian given the right circumstances... but then again.

It must have been rather alarming for Severus to realise Teddy was not someone Harry just casually babysat every now and then. Harry wondered if Severus had ever wanted a family; if he’d dreamed of having a child with Harry’s mother, but he quickly banished the uncomfortable thought. “Sunday would be all right, then?” he asked.

“Of course. I can make myself scarce if that suits – ”

Harry blinked in alarm. “No! No – stay. If you can, please stay. I want you around.”

Severus paused, and so did Harry. It was as though both of them knew his confession referred to more than the following Sunday. He wanted Severus around him, around his friends, at Christmas, _all_ the time. Hermione had said he should make his own feelings clear; was this the kind of thing, or was he coming on too strong? Harry’s heart fluttered in his chest as they gazed at each other, waiting for Severus to answer. 

“Very well,” said Severus finally, and then his hand pushed the hem of Harry’s T-shirt up, sliding over the slightly ticklish spots until he reached his nipples.

Harry whimpered slightly. It may only have been a month, but Severus knew just about every trick in the book to get him hard and writhing. He could imagine Hermione telling him to stay focused and continue this discussion, but if Severus wanted to play, he wasn’t going to say no. He laughed, and began to move into the touch, deliberately rubbing himself against Severus’s cock in the process.

“Hm, I take it I was missed?” Severus murmured against Harry’s hair.

“Definitely.”

“And you managed to restrain yourself?”

“...What do you mean?” For one indignant moment Harry thought he was being accused of sleeping with someone else.

Severus’s free hand slipped down between Harry’s legs, coaxing them apart. “You didn’t relieve your frustrations yourself?”

“Oh – ! No – no I didn’t.” Harry swallowed, blushing and thrusting into the feeling as Severus gave him a gentle squeeze.

“So responsive... Perhaps I believe you.”

“I – I _didn’t_...”

“How interesting.” Severus’s hand began massaging over the hardening bulge as Harry squirmed. “You must be maturing. I still find it fascinating that you weren’t at least curious. That you didn’t... _give in_ to the temptation.”

Shuddering, Harry grasped Severus’s arm and twisted in his lap to face him. “Maybe if I’d slept in your bed I would have.”

Severus’s eyes flashed. “ _Insolent_.” He muttered something, and Harry jerked in surprise as his clothes suddenly disappeared – no doubt materialising all folded and neat on his bed if he knew Severus at all; Severus, who was still fully dressed and manoeuvring Harry around so that they were bare back to clothed chest. His hands stroked over the skin of Harry’s chest and thighs, but they skirted away from where he was most desperate.

“Go on, then,” said Severus, nibbling lightly just below Harry’s ear. “Touch yourself.”

Harry felt a twinge of shame at the command, but it was quickly chased away by arousal. As with all things sex related, masturbation had never really been something he’d discussed openly, let alone done in front of anyone else. As a child his hands had been slapped down if he went to so much as scratch himself, leaving him terribly embarrassed of his own body without really understanding why. Once he’d got older, he’d heard the other boys in Gryffindor dormitory laughing and joking about the practice, but hadn’t joined in. Of course there hadn’t been much time or privacy for it during those months he’d spent in the tent with Ron and Hermione. It had always been as much of a comfort thing to him as a release of tension, but in recent years he supposed it might have been as much about being lonely as frustrated, and he’d never really shaken off the earlier mortification. But now, as he took himself in hand, with Severus behind him and surrounding him, it suddenly wasn’t quite so pedestrian. It was so much more than just fucking his own fist. The glide of his palm up and down his cock was blessed relief. He’d wanted this. He’d wanted Severus so much these last few days.

“I missed you,” he whined.

Severus growled, placing a sucking a kiss at Harry’s throat. “Perhaps I should have paid you a little late night visit. As you did me that Saturday night.”

“Yes!” Harry sped up the movement of his hand.

“I doubt your friends would have been pleased, had they overheard your cries.”

“ – Worth it!” Harry gasped.

Severus chuckled. “Naughty boy.”

Harry choked slightly as he came; painting his belly and legs with it. Severus was hard against his back – he could feel it, and he made to move, self-conscious again all of a sudden.

“Stay,” grunted Severus, although Harry could hear the smile it was said around.

“Bossy,” he said, but he did as he was told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for kind of another cliffhanger with the sex. I'll try to make it up to you in the next part! Thanks all xxx


	22. An Honourable Gesture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus and Harry continue their intimate afternoon together. Severus finally shares some information, but it’s not what Harry thought.

Severus was evidently in no rush to see to himself, and instead remained there with Harry on his knee, kissing and sucking at his jaw and neck languidly for a while. In a blissful haze, Harry relaxed against him, content to enjoy the attentions for now.

“Hm, I must admit,” Severus murmured, licking at Harry’s earlobe gently, “that I’ve thought of you often these last few days.”

Harry gave a soft chuckle. “You ‘must’ admit?” he repeated. “Is it really painful having to say it out loud?”

“Agony. You need no more encouragement.”

“None at all; for anything?”

“No.”

“So, what? I should just give up and lie down somewhere?”

He felt Severus shrug. “Would that really be a problem? It would certainly ease the way for any further _confessions_ I might have.”

Harry laughed loudly at that. “You’re awful.” He was feeling elated by their exchange. They had confessed that they’d missed each other, and now here they were, joking about things, and teasing. This was good, wasn’t it? This was _very_ good.

“Although,” said Severus, beginning to stroke his hands over Harry’s chest again, “I was wondering if you’d like it if _I_ do the lying down today?”

Harry wavered for a moment, rubbing his cheek alongside Severus’s for a moment as he processed his meaning. “You – want that?” he asked.

“I expect you wish to try it?”

Harry exhaled shakily. Of _course_ he wanted to try it for himself; he’d thought about it plenty, but without much sense of urgency and certainly no impatience. Severus had never made him feel _degraded_ (at least, not in a way that Harry minded) or pathetic or simply _less_ for being fucked. He had always, right from their first time having penetrative sex, ensured and prioritised Harry’s pleasure. Harry remembered his silky voice instructing him to relax; how oddly soothing it had become, as he’d worked Harry open with slick fingers, given his cock a few strokes, coaxed him to orgasm a couple of times beforehand to help him let go. It had been – Merlin – at least a solid half hour before Severus had actually pushed in to him; murmuring more advice to ease the way; praising him, taking pauses to check he was all right. It hadn’t reflected any of the former hatred between them at all; instead, it seemed to solidify a new layer of trust between them.

The only thing Harry would say might be amiss in their sexual relationship was that he wasn’t sure if _he_ devoted enough time to making Severus feel good. The man had the tendency to take the lead anyway, and while he was more experienced, Harry had sometimes feared he might be too passive. He was plenty responsive, which Severus seemed to love, and he tried to express his appreciation and affection for the other man wherever he could, but such gestures could tread the line of being too intimate – and once again, Harry did not wish to overstep where he might not be welcome. Now, after an invitation, the prospect of fucking Severus was both overwhelming and extremely heartening.

“Only if you want to,” said Harry after a beat. “I mean – I enjoy what we do already.”

Severus dropped a small kiss on Harry’s shoulder. “I would say I have a few preferences when it comes to sex. But they’re not all set in stone. Some things I only want on occasion... and I’ll imagine you’ll be just as pretty giving as when you take.”

Harry felt himself go scarlet, and he smiled incredulously. “You think I’m _pretty?_ ”

“I’m hardly the first. Your prettiness has been remarked upon many times in the _Daily Prophet_.”

“Well, that’s not really a reliable source, is it?”

“Hm – I would trust them on their aesthetic critiques.”

Harry smiled at him bashfully for a moment, and then said, “All right. But you know I’m pretty sure that falls into the category of _encouraging_ me.”

“You’re quite right. This discussion has gone too far. Get upstairs.” Severus jolted him off his lap, swatting his bottom sharply once he was on his feet. Harry laughed again and darted away before he could land another smack on him.

Upstairs in Harry’s bedroom, Severus caught up with him and tugged him in for another thorough kiss, pressing something into Harry’s hand as he did so. When they parted, he divested himself of his clothes with the same spell he liked to use on Harry, and then went to sit on the bed. Harry looked down to discover that Severus had passed him a small bottle of oil, and he gulped as he looked up in time to see the man grab a pillow and wedge it under his hips as he lay down. He looked so unconcerned as he settled back and beckoned Harry forwards.

Harry’s heart was in his mouth as he approached, kneeling on the end of the bed. Seeing Severus from this angle... _fuck_. His chest, his torso, big cock... those long legs.

Merlin – it was beyond words.

He fumbled somewhat with the oil, and once his fingers were nice and slick, he steadied himself by giving Severus’s erection a few slow rubs up and down the shaft. Severus merely shifted one foot up, bending his left leg and giving Harry a better view of where he was wanted most. Harry made sure the oil was warmer to the touch before he began preparing Severus. He was so tight and hot inside, and Harry remembered how it felt being taken, and hoped he would make this just as enjoyable for the other man.

For a time, Severus remained almost aloof; the only indications of his feeling anything at all were small tremors and strains in his stomach and thighs. He muttered his consent when he was ready, and Harry tentatively lined himself with Severus’s entrance and began to push in.

“Are – are you – okay?” Harry panted after a few moments, shuddering as the ring of tight muscle first contracted, and then opened out as Severus relaxed himself. As nerve-wracking as this was, it felt incredible, and he didn’t want to forget the other man in his own pleasure.

“Fine,” said Severus, with galling lucidity.

When Harry was in all the way, he gave Severus a few moments, and then moved carefully between his legs to lie more flat on top of him. Severus’s teeth gritted together lightly as they readjusted, but then he was reaching a hand up to brush over Harry’s face, as though somehow _he_ were the one more at risk of injury here. Harry turned his head to press a little kiss to his palm, and waited until Severus said, “Go on.”

Harry slowly drew out, and then rocked forwards as gently as he could, testing it. The sensation was as wonderful as the first time around, and he repeated it twice more in that measured way, before starting a proper rhythm. Severus watched him beneath hooded eyelids, still stroking Harry’s face and shoulders with his hands.

Was this really any good for him, Harry wondered? He tried to remember where his own prostate was and translate the location for Severus, unsure if he should halt and focus on seeking that.

“Don’t you _dare_ stop,” rumbled Severus beneath him, sensing his uncertainty. “You’re doing just fine.”

Rising up on his arms; hands pressed down into the mattress, Harry repositioned himself slightly and resumed fucking him with quicker, deeper thrusts this time. His concerns were resolved further when Severus tilted his hips up to meet him and hissied his approval. He could feel the other man’s dick leaking against both their stomachs, and tried to push his weight down onto it a bit to provide him that relief.

Harry closed his eyes, panting and moaning intermittently. The orgasm came in a rush that sent him grasping at the sheets on either side of Severus. His back arched and he felt himself spilling into that tight warmth; heard his own gasps of ecstasy.

For a few moments, he stayed where he was, realising as he came down from his high that he hadn’t made Severus come. Ignoring his own disappointment, he reached between them and tenderly separated from him, and then shuffled down, away from Severus’s still petting hands, to finish him off with his mouth.

“Yess!” Severus snarled, his fingers caging over Harry’s head as, in a rare loss of bodily control, he jerked his hips violently up to meet him. Harry clenched his fists and gladly let himself be used. It didn’t take long.

Afterwards, Harry laid his head on Severus’s thigh, and listened to both their breaths start to even out once more. “Was... that okay?” he asked softly after a few minutes.

Severus thumbed at Harry’s forehead. “You know I wouldn’t have tolerated a poor effort. And it was as I thought; watching you was most invigorating.”

Harry nodded, pressing a kiss to the skin in front of him as he recalled Ginny’s words, “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” He swallowed, feeling both parts happy and oddly sad.

They spent practically the rest of the day in bed, dozing together for about an hour, and when they awoke it was as though they couldn’t get enough of each other. For a while they simply kissed and touched; exploring, until Severus rolled Harry underneath him and finished them both off with a hand around both of them. After another break where they chatted together comfortably about the school’s upcoming Quidditch trials and Harry’s merriment over the weekend, Severus had Harry ride him lazily as he toyed with the younger man’s already sensitive nipples. At a few minutes past three o’clock, having worked up quite an appetite, Harry stepped out for a few moments in his dressing gown to ask Kreacher to bring them some food, blushing as he imagined Hermione’s protests at his laziness. Kreacher, on the other hand, was all too pleased to be of assistance, remarking that, “It is good for Master Severus and Master Harry to be spending time together.”

When Harry returned to his room with a tray laden with cold meats, bread and a jug of pumpkin juice, Severus appeared deep in thought. Harry placed the tray in the centre of the bed, and the pair of them ate together in a tranquil silence for a while, until finally Severus interrupted it.

“ – Harry,” he said, immediately getting the other’s attention. Whenever _Severus_ held hesitation in his voice, he was clearly about to say something interesting. He took a sip of pumpkin juice, considering something for a moment, and then continued. “I was going to leave this conversation until an announcement was made, but as we are now... being direct with each other, I think this more suitable. The matter I have been attending to is both a private and a delicate one. I would rather it was not discussed elsewhere, even between you and your friends.”

Harry blinked, startled by the abrupt severity of his tone. “Yeah, of course,” he said, starting to get nervous as he wondered what he was about to hear. Was it about them? Or was it about another relationship of Severus’s?

“Two weeks ago my grandfather became seriously ill.”

“Your – ?”

“My maternal grandfather, Severus Prince.”

“Oh,” said Harry, not sure how to react. “I – I’m sorry. I didn’t know you...”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Had family?”

“I... to be honest, I sort of assumed you were on your own now,” Harry admitted guiltily. “I’m sorry, Severus, I never even thought to ask you about it.”

Severus waved him off. “I deliberately never mentioned them. My mother is on the frail side, and we are on speaking terms but not close. My father left when I was nineteen and I can only hope he _is_ deceased.”

Harry nodded awkwardly, recalling the unhappy glimpses he’d seen of Severus’s childhood. “And... your mother’s father?”

“He disowned her when she married my father. I never met him. He died on Friday night of natural causes. Despite the rift, my mother has not taken the news well. It has revived many unhappy memories.”

“Right, of course,” said Harry. “And that’s where you’ve been going? To be with her?”

“Yes. Things were obviously difficult, but looked to be fairly straightforward – that is – until her younger brother Richard decided he couldn’t leave well enough alone.”

“Oh?”

“He first contacted my mother two weeks ago to inform her of their father’s ailing, and then wrote to tell us of his passing yesterday morning. And that wasn’t all. He claims to have been against my mother’s disownment all along, despite never having made any attempt to contact us before now.” Severus’s lip curled unpleasantly. “He made mention of my ‘restoration of the family honour’ with my role in the war, but I strongly suspect that he was also alluding to my marriage to you.”

Harry nodded uncomfortably. “Are you worried he’s after something from you?”

“I do not ‘worry’ about anything. Oh, I imagine he is as desperate to restore his own reputation as the next pureblood bystander; assuming he really didn’t have a backbone where his parents were concerned. His own son Marcellus, on whom all the hopes of my grandparents rested, died in a duel about ten years ago. After _much_ deliberation, it seems he’s prepared to settle what remains of the family fortune on me.”

Harry inhaled suddenly, only marginally surprised. He thought of the pride Severus had taken in adopting the Prince name during his school years, and thought gravely that Richard’s communication had come far too late.

Severus sneered as he went on. “Despite the honour of the gesture, it has yet again proven a great emotional shock for my mother. I make enough to support myself and her, and was quite willing to reject my uncle’s _generous_ offer on her behalf – but she insists that I meet him and accept whatever amends he wishes to make.”

“And how do _you_ feel about all this?” Harry asked gently.

“I find it extraordinarily tiresome. Had Prince approached my mother with some consideration of her state, and left to _her_ whatever he wished, I might have found the time for it. But I detest this fakery; asking to meet as though we were long lost relatives separated through misfortune, and now everything will be right again!”

Spitting his rage, Severus was suddenly transformed back into that hateful man Harry remembered. Only this time, he could not really find fault with his anger. Clearly it wasn’t just Eileen Snape who was experiencing the full force of her own terrible past come back to haunt her. Some benefits might come of this reconciliation in the end, but at this time it had to be maddening. Harry pictured some mysterious relative presenting themselves and their privileges to him now; making it clear that they could have stepped in and rescued him from the Dursleys at any given moment and expecting his gratitude. It would not make him happy. Perhaps Richard Prince truly couldn’t have extended any financial support to his sister, but he could have visited. He could have acknowledged his nephew if he’d wished to and offered some welcome.

Severus snorted. “One small mercy is that he has agreed to keep the meeting private and that my attendance at the funeral will not be necessary, but it’s unlikely that the old Prince’s death will go entirely unnoticed. After the war the press did everything they could to find out about my past. They will try to make something of it.”

Harry grimaced. “I remember.” He’d never been more grateful that, as Muggles, the Dursleys and their home were protected from any wizarding media intrusion. They would have had a field day with it, and he could all too clearly imagine the headlines if they got wind of Severus and Richard’s meeting:

_SNAPE REUNITED WITH FAMILY WEALTH AFTER PRINCE PATRIARCH’S DEATH_

_WAR HERO FINALLY ACKNOWLEDGED BY WIZARDING RELATIVES_

_SPY FOR ORDER OF THE PHOENIX SET TO INHERIT FORTUNE AFTER LONGTERM FAMILY SNUB_

“You haven’t met with him yet, then?” he asked calmly.

“No,” replied Severus, and he seemed to compose himself a little. “Now that his father is dead we will arrange something, which brings me to the other reason for sharing this. My mother would like to meet you, and there’s a distinct possibility Prince may, as well. I will try to spare you my uncle where I can, but I was wondering if you might sit with my mother while I go to see him?”

“Yes, of course,” said Harry, more than pleased he might be able to help.

Severus inclined his head in thanks, and he glanced away, scowling once more, and Harry thought he seemed almost embarrassed. “I must warn you that my mother is not fit to entertain. When the time comes I would appreciate it if you would sort yourself and her out for tea and anything else.”

“No problem.” Harry remembered the occasional visits to Mrs Figg during his childhood. While he’d been bored out of his wits with her, he was more than prepared to assist an old lady and keep her company. He could be either chatty and engaging or quiet and attentive; whatever was required of him. “Does she know about us? I mean – the whole truth. About the curse and everything?”

“She does.”

“Well, then. Just let me know if – if I should keep off topic about certain things, you know.”

“She will direct the conversation wherever she wishes.”

Harry smiled. “Then that’s settled.” He ruffled his fringe between his fingers awkwardly. “I’m... I am _sorry,_ Severus.”

Severus looked up at him sharply. “ _I_ shed no tears over that man’s death.”

“No, I know. But all this is... it’s a lot to deal with.”

Severus waved him off again. “It will pass. I simply did not expect it.”

Harry nodded. He was still incredibly curious, and although he didn’t think they deserved any attention, couldn’t help musing over Severus’s extended family. “Do you mind me asking – did you never meet Richard’s son, either?”

Severus tipped his head back to rest against the headboard. “Marcellus was five years above me at Hogwarts, and in the same house. I doubt he had any idea of my relation to him. If he did, or if he cottoned onto the fact I shared the same name as our grandfather, he never approached me over it. That was partly the reason why I did not publicly use the Prince surname, as much as I wished to.”

Harry felt a pang, imagining the eleven-year-old Severus sneaking looks at his oblivious cousin across the Slytherin table. He must have felt trapped between a rock and a hard place; despising his father’s surname, and resenting the people who had the family name he wished to take.

“Thanks for telling me,” he said, knowing that Severus wasn’t really as unaffected as he claimed by all of this. “If I can help... just ask. Any time. With anything.”

The corner of Severus’s lip twitched upwards. “Thank you. I think I shall.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More kudos to The Marriage Stone for Severus's family acknowledging him through his marriage to Harry. Hope you all enjoy, and thanks again for the wonderful comments xxx


	23. Keeping the Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Severus deal with an intrusive article about Mr Prince's death, and Teddy visits Hogwarts for the day.

> _One explanation for why relationships between us and Muggles is not uncommon, is because our magic is so convenient. Generally speaking, the wizarding world is completely separate and secret from the other half, but because we do not have to spend hours travelling to work, school or to get to the shops, we can choose to settle wherever we like, and many of us do exactly that. Hogsmeade remains the sole all-wizarding village in Britain, and there are no plans to build any more magical settlements. Instead, if we find a street we like, it doesn’t matter if it isn’t anywhere near anyone we know. If a witch or wizard doesn’t want to get to know their non-magical neighbours, they can easily cocoon themselves and their home with magic and eliminate the possibility of any contact; even making it so that the Muggles don’t realise they or their house is there at all. All this, we can do, while still being able to pop over to a friend’s house down the other end of the country with Floo powder or other means. This does not, however, prevent other members of the household exiting the building’s protective wards, walking down the street, and meeting their more exotic neighbours if they so wish._
> 
> _-_ Veronica Merritt, from: _Mingling With Muggles_

“What did we make of the reading?” Harry asked, looking up from the text at his fourth-year Gryffindors and Slytherins.

The students were all looking somewhat more confident about themselves as they began raising their hands.

Predictably, Rebecca Stiles got there first. “When people are anti-Muggleborn it’s almost like they think Muggles purposefully try to gain access to the wizarding world and steal from it,” she said. “Or even that they trick witches and wizards into marriage somehow. But Merritt points out that wizarding folk don’t actually try very hard to separate from them.”

Selena Rochdale snorted lightly. “Tell that to my uncle. He always used to go on about the local Muggles being trouble. He _never_ let us play with the other children in the neighbourhood when we visited.”

“But he probably had to work quite hard to make sure you wouldn’t,” said Rachel Bakshi gently.

Selena shrugged. “I suppose.”

“Right,” said Harry, nodding, “so Merritt basically argues that it’s pretty hard _not_ to interact with Muggles at some stage in a magical person’s life. Apart from Hogsmeade, there’s no such thing as a completely magical town – at least in Britain – and so we’ve never battened down the hatches and all stuck together in one settlement. Still, we weren’t always so open-minded about marrying Muggles, and yet there was an influx of marriages to them in the late seventeenth century. Do any of you know why?”

Orpheus Askew’s hand shot up. “It was that... act thing. So we didn’t keep on marrying our cousins!” he said eagerly.

Harry smiled. “Yes. We’re steadily getting into the 1676 Intermarriages Act here, which was actually a thinly-veiled attempt to get wizarding families to spread out a bit.”

“Isn’t that basically forced marriage?” asked Joan Beck distastefully.

“Well, it would have been if they had enforced it. But the act was purely to grant those who did marry Muggles a level of anonymity. There was a shortage of pureblood wizarding families, and an unusually large number of Squibs had been born in the span of a hundred years. Given the choice, families might prefer the one who married ‘out’ to be the second or third child so that their ‘legacy’ would remain intact. It was also a time when many Squibs left for the Muggle world for good. Many living Muggleborns are descended from those individuals.”

“So – most magical folk are essentially half-bloods?” said Lewis Thompson.

“But there are genuine purebloods still living,” Nicholas Stuart interjected sharply.

“Yeah, the ones with twelve fingers and twelve toes!” scoffed Lizzie Bell.

“That’s enough, Miss Bell,” chided Harry. “Keep it respectful.”

“Sorry, sir. Sorry – everyone.”

Rachel Bakshi was frowning. “How can anyone be _sure_ they’re pureblood if there were all these secret marriages going on?” she asked.

Harry nodded. “That’s a good question – ”

“There is such a thing as family trees, you know,” said Nicholas, now visibly fuming. “ _Some_ of us did manage to keep track.”

“Keep _track?!_ ” spat Lewis. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Look – I accept that we couldn’t _all_ do it, I’m just _saying_ some of us did.”

“You still can’t be sure, Stuart,” said Orpheus. “I mean – I know _my_ family would like us to be a bit – er... purer. Sorry, no offence meant.” He shot an apologetic look towards the Gryffindors.

“Just because your parents overcompensated by giving you a truly _stupid_ name – ”

“Mr Stuart, unless you’d like to write out your retraction of that statement a hundred times, I suggest you don’t continue it,” said Harry.

Nicholas flushed red, clashing rather nastily with his hair. “...Very well.”

“Please apologise.”

“...My apologies, Askew.”

Orpheus looked about as bothered as the rest of the class, but he nodded back at Nicholas good-naturedly.

Harry knew he needed to calm things down a bit. “As we’ve just witnessed, this is where things become controversial. Even during periods of so-called tolerance towards those of any background, like just after the First Wizarding War, these anxieties about our origins and history were not discussed. Many of us take pride in our families; whether through some legacy or other, or wealth, or simple affection for our ancestors. Who wants to have any of that challenged? And what has it to do with our fears about mixing with Muggles? This will be your homework tonight – please find a point you’d like to discuss and start making notes. We’ll have a look in ten minutes.”

He zoned out slightly as they began writing and occasionally bickering between themselves as they checked each other’s comments. He’d been worried about featuring the subject of intermarriages with Muggles in his class for that week, but not because of the inevitable arguments. He and Severus were still waiting for the press to get hold of the news of old Mr Prince’s death, and he wasn’t blind to the fact that the topic was rather close to home. However, it had followed on directly from the previous week’s teachings, and no doubt the more sharp-witted students would have noticed had he tried to steer away from it. Severus Prince had been among those listed in the Deaths column at the back of the _Daily Prophet_ on Monday, and it was only a matter of time. If only he’d had a different first name, Harry imagined it wouldn’t have been as likely to draw the eye, and perhaps they could have had at least an extra week or two before the news broke.

His thoughts drifted to Eileen, and the question of how a young, pureblood witch from a vehemently traditional family had even had the opportunity to meet and get to know a Muggle at all. Had she, as Veronica Merritt theorised, sought out Tobias Snape’s company, or had they met by chance? He supposed that if she’d been shy and unsure of herself, a compliment thrown her way by a charming stranger might have excited her. Or perhaps she had approached him; maybe she’d wanted to stir things up in her life, or simply found herself attracted to him. Perhaps, once they were together, she’d felt she had no choice but to remain by his side after her family rejected her? Harry pondered if he might get any clues about it when they met, whenever that would be. Richard Prince was dithering – according to Severus – every stage of the way, but in particular over when to meet with his nephew, and when to hold the funeral. It seemed that he was hoping Severus might change his mind and want to attend the latter, further proof of his having no comprehension of who he was dealing with at all.

“You can’t put it like _that_!” Lewis snapped suddenly at Orpheus.

Harry refocused on the class, and began psyching himself up to intervene before it got messy.

~o~

It was Wednesday when Severus irritably tossed him the morning’s _Prophet,_ and then started to pace angrily up and down before his bed as Harry picked up the newspaper.

_DEATH OF WAR HERO’S GRANDFATHER RAISES QUESTIONS_

Harry made a face and began to read. Thankfully, the offending article didn’t speculate on the nature of the old man’s death as the headline implied, but Skeeter had still done her homework. A brief biography of Eileen was there, and then came the descriptions of her relatives, including Richard and Marcellus Prince, then Darrell Winters, Marcellus’s mother, and then Severus Prince himself, and finally _his_ late wife Adelaide Beaubien. It was full of mystery and intrigue, and some absurd drivel such as the ‘seductive and magnetic’ Tobias Snape luring Eileen Prince from her cosy pureblood life, and Severus Senior’s cruel dismissal of her, and then of course it all boiled down to Severus and Harry’s marriage and how _hard_ the pair of them must be taking being ignored by Richard, even after all these years.

There were also pictures.

The marital portrait of Eileen and Tobias was the most prominent. Merlin only knew where Skeeter had sourced it, as Eileen had reported no communications from the press to her son. Beneath, it read, _Yes, we know it isn’t moving – this is a Muggle photograph._

Eileen had never been traditionally pretty, but she’d evidently made an effort on her wedding day with her simple white dress and hat. Tobias, too, was no Hollywood star, and yet he was arrestingly good-looking with his strong features, echoed in his son. The piercing blue eyes were unfamiliar, however, as was the charismatic smile. In the photograph, the pair made a striking couple. They looked right together; happy, and not as though there would be violence and anguish later in their lives.

Severus Prince had already been white-haired by the time the family portrait was painted. He _did_ look every bit as harsh as his later actions betrayed, with his black eyes glaring out from the paper. Adelaide was dark of skin and hair, and looked to have been small and thin like her daughter, but concealed much of it with a tall hat and a dignified posture. Richard, meanwhile, was shown to be jarringly tall, blond and handsome, and had also inherited his father’s black eyes, although _they_ showed some warmth. In a third image, another photograph most likely taken from an old yearbook, Marcellus greatly resembled Richard, although he’d possessed a weaker chin and a rather haughty look about him.

It was bizarre seeing all these faces that were recognisably linked to Severus, and at the same time nothing to do with him.

At breakfast, Severus kept mostly expressionless, but it left the impression of a statue made of ice, and not even Professor Webb risked a glance their way. Harry prayed that the students who knew about the article would deduce that no good would come of irritating him that week. In private, he could soothe and distract him, most efficiently with sex, but he could not do no such thing in the Great Hall. He made do with complaining about the Board of Governor’s rather vacuous response to his suggestions on the Hogsmeade permission slips, but deep down he too was fuming over the article. Skeeter must have either got wind of Richard’s attempts at reconciliation, or she simply thought the possibility of it was to be expected. She was clearly hoping to flush more gossip out by printing this sickening, false sympathy for Harry and Severus, and only time would tell if Richard proved strong enough to resist her provoking.

Things were further complicated by Eileen writing to Severus the next day, stating her intentions to attend her father’s funeral.

“Why?” Severus ranted when he returned from trying to reason with her late that night. “What has she to mourn that she hasn’t done so already? Her father left nothing to her; not even a last word!”

At that moment, Harry could think of nothing to offer but physical comfort again. Although he was pleased by Severus’s display of trust by inviting him to meet his mother, he didn’t dare presume he could be as openly critical as he liked, even when agreeing with him. Eileen Snape was evidently a complicated woman, as was her son’s relationship with her. Harry supposed that if _he_ heard of his aunt or uncle’s death it might incite some response – _what_ he couldn’t say at this point – but he certainly wouldn’t fight to involve himself in the grieving. Presumably Eileen and her father had shared a deep bond at some early stage – or she was convinced they might have done, had things been different.

For the rest of the week, Severus did not speak much on the matter, and so Harry endeavoured to keep things in their chambers calm and peaceful. He continued his efforts to absorb Severus into topics that might distract him for a while, such as the Dark Arts, Potions, and even Parseltongue and its history. For now he would postpone any talk of Occlumency. Should that go pear-shaped again he was afraid Severus might actually combust from rage. He managed to escape the tense atmosphere on Saturday morning when he Floo’d over to Andromeda’s. Over lunch, she politely asked about how Severus was coping with Prince’s death, and Harry simply told her that he was fine. He had kept his word and not discussed the matter with anyone, even when Hermione had sent a genuinely concerned letter saying she hoped everything was all right, and promising to check in on Skeeter at some point. He replied with gratitude, and again stated that things were under control.

Having already promised Teddy he could come to see Hogwarts, Harry hadn’t felt able to cancel his Sunday visit, but instead assured Severus that he did not need to be present if he had other things to attend to. He was therefore pleasantly surprised to find the man waiting for them the next day when he returned with Teddy in his arms.

Teddy gasped when he looked up and saw the vaulted ceiling, and Harry smiled, remembering how he’d been unable to stop looking at everything when he’d first arrived, having never seen anything like it.

“Harry,” Severus greeted stiffly. “ – Teddy.”

Teddy abruptly looked down at him, biting his lip. “Hello,” he whispered, as though if he spoke too loudly it might break something.

“Hi!” said Harry, setting Teddy down. “So, Teddy, this is where we live.”

He showed his godson around their quarters; Teddy reaching to touch all the stone and wooden carvings everywhere, and still utterly mesmerised by the scale of the place.

“It’s so... old,” said Teddy curiously as he examined the stone windowsill in Harry’s bedroom, humming a strange little tune to himself along with a few snatches of lyrics he’d probably heard incorrectly.

When they’d finished the short tour, they went to the portrait hole and climbed through, Severus just behind them.

Teddy held Harry’s hand as they walked, hair bright blue, and his eyes huge and round, as he just _stared_ at everything. They had to stop several times so that he could take in a painting, or have a look out of a window as Harry held him up. Many of the portraits cooed and called out happily at the presence of the small boy, although a couple grumbled about ‘grubby hands’ and ‘noise’.

Mercifully, Severus seemed willing to take things slowly, mostly silent as he kept just a step or two away from them, but a handful of times he did take the time to explain the meaning behind a painting or statue to Teddy. This did not always keep Teddy’s attention for long. He apparently didn’t dare walk away when Severus was speaking to him, but Harry spied the way his feet were twitching and dragging beneath him; impatient to move on to the next thing.

The changing staircases, on the other hand, captured Teddy’s interest for a solid ten minutes, and when they finally got outside, he was even further in awe; gazing up at all the towers and turrets, and pointing little details out to Harry, and once tentatively to Severus. It was rather misty; not so bad as to obscure too much of the castle, but enough to lend the surroundings an even more enigmatic aura than usual.

Hagrid met them coming up the hill, and Teddy ran down to greet him.

“He is somewhat less _passive_ than his father was,” Severus remarked as they watched Hagrid scoop Teddy up as one would a kitten.

“Ah, that’s kind,” said Harry.

“You must admit Lupin was rather a bland personality. An unlikely feat for a werewolf, but nevertheless.”

Harry just shot him a stern glance and smiled at the spectacle of his godson nattering away to Hagrid, who ended up carrying the child all the way down to the Quidditch Pitch.

“Wow!” crowed Teddy, beaming up at the stands and massive, towering goalposts. Hagrid lifted him to sit on his shoulders, and together they walked along the West hand side of the stadium together. Teddy twisted around slightly to look back at Harry and Severus, several metres behind them, and shouted, “I’m going to play Quidditch for England!”

“Indeed?” replied Severus.

“Oh, yeah?” called Harry. “Which position?”

“Keeper!”

Severus sniffed. “I’ll never understand the preoccupation everyone has with this game,” he remarked to Harry as they slowly trod the same path as the other two.

“You seem to get into the competitive spirit along with everyone else,” said Harry knowingly. “And you’re a decent flyer.” He recalled the rather frightening spectacle of his then-Potions professor hovering menacingly during the match he refereed in Harry’s first year.

“ _Generous_ of you to be sure; however, I simply never understood the adulation for Quidditch.”

Teddy gave a little trill of laughter in the distance, and sang a bit more of the funny song he’d picked up.

Harry shrugged. “Well, _I_ can’t really explain it. I just knew I loved it the minute I started playing.”

“I suppose it was only natural for you to follow exactly in your father’s footsteps.”

“Not _exactly_. My dad wasn’t a Seeker, he was – ”

“Chaser.” Severus sneered. “How could I forget?”

“Yeah, see? Completely different.”

“I suppose. Your father wouldn’t have made much of a Seeker. His head was entirely too much weight for the position all on its own.”

“Now, now, that’s two dead people you’ve spoken ill of today.”

“Forgive me, I must be feeling nostalgic.”

Harry fought down a laugh, not wanting to encourage Severus’s rudeness, and was about to respond when another voice cut in.

“Is that kid your _son?”_

They both turned to find Enoch Jones, along with Theodora Lancet and Bernard Percy, gawping over at Teddy and Hagrid and then between Harry and Severus. As Harry tried to figure out how old he must look if the students thought he could have a child of five years, Severus rounded on the three teenagers.

“ _Do_ close your mouth, Jones,” he snapped. “And don’t be obtuse. Professor Potter and I are not in the habit of producing children. ‘That’ is his godson.”

Enoch’s shoulders drooped at the reprimand. “Oh.”

“Now, as you decided to follow us all the way here from the castle – I can only assume you have the time on your hands to manually dust the classroom projector and organise all the individual slides?”

The three third-years’ mouths fell open in protest. “Oh – no, please, sir!”

“We _didn’t_ follow – ”

“We’re sorry, sir!”

“Then kindly move along!” Severus barked, and with that he stalked off to catch up with Hagrid and Teddy.

Harry was trying not to snicker again as he watched him go. He mused over how much time Severus spent preparing his admonishments and detention ideas with the extra time afforded him by Legilimency.

“We – we didn’t mean to be nosy, sir.”

He turned to find Enoch still there, looking completely mortified.

“It’s all right,” said Harry, chuckling.

“Come _on!”_ hissed Bernard, a few yards away, obviously keen to leave before Severus looked back.

“Take it from me; you can’t sneak up on Professor Snape,” Harry told them. “Best not to get up his nose.” He turned and began walking to join the others.

“Wouldn’t be difficult,” grumbled Theodora under her breath. Unfortunately, the echo in the large stadium sent her words straight to Harry’s ears.

“Shh!” whispered Bernard, nearly apoplectic now. “He’ll _hear_ you!”

Harry turned to look at them, his eyebrow raised, and he did consider taking some points, but decidedly to let Theodora stew in the uncertainty of whether he’d heard her or not. He’d said a lot worse behind Severus’s back in his time, and besides, if his husband noticed the diminished house points he’d look into it, and then the girl would suffer an even worse punishment than dusting a projector. Harry was nowhere near equipped to shield his mind from the man and protect her. The three pupils backed away from him, and then took off at lightning speed back towards the castle.

When the four of them had circled the pitch once, Hagrid finally removed Teddy from his shoulders and gently put him down. “’Fraid I’ve gotta get on now, but very nice ter see you, young Teddy,” he said, patting Teddy’s head and nearly flooring the child in process, before taking his leave.

“When will there be a match?” asked Teddy.

“Not until November,” said Severus. “The house teams haven’t had their try-outs yet.”

“Oh.” Teddy pouted and looked forlornly up at the empty stands again.

“Perhaps we could try and arrange for you to be here, if your grandmother allows it.”

The little boy looked at him eagerly. _“Really?”_

“Absolutely.”

Teddy shot a delighted grin at Harry, who smiled back.

“How are you finding your school?” Severus asked him seriously.

“Really fun. Well – not always. I like my friends. And writing.”

“That is promising. You ought to keep it up, you’ll be expected to have some level in the skill when you start here.”

“Mm. I wish I was here now.”

“The day will arrive soon enough.”

“That's what _everyone_ says.”

“Alas, I can't tell you any different.”

Harry made sure to keep a slight distance from them as he listened. He was finding their interactions absurdly endearing, and he kept quiet, not wanting them to stop. He wasn’t worried about Severus’s jibes at Remus and his father. There had been no true malice in his voice, and Harry suspected that Teddy’s presence and being seen by the staff and students had unnerved him.

_“A-muss-besomething raaaaw!”_ Teddy crooned under his breath for about the sixth time.

“And what is this you keep singing?” Severus questioned as they made their way out of the Quidditch Pitch and towards the school.

“Evanescence.”

“ – I see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the response to the last chapter. I hope it wasn't too jarring. We will meet Eileen very soon, promise! xxx


	24. The Little Old Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry meets Eileen Snape.

Moving into October, the temperature dropped again, while the days became noticeably shorter. Richard finally agreed to meet Severus on the following Saturday, to the latter’s relief. Harry reminded him that they were having dinner with Professor Slughorn later that evening, to which Severus replied, “Don't trouble yourself. I do not intend to make this a long visit.”

The day crept up on them slowly at first, and then the end of the week seemed to speed by. Curiously, Severus had seemed more relaxed since Teddy’s visit, and slowly descended back into only a minor grump, perhaps happy he would finally be getting this business over and done with, while Harry grew more and more nervous. He found himself having to concentrate hard during classes to stop from zoning out, and he drank more vials of Dreamless Sleep that week than he probably should have done. He didn’t want to disturb Severus with his nightmares again as the man had more than enough on his plate already.

As pleased as he was to be entrusted to meet Eileen and keep her company, he couldn’t shake the mounting concern that something might go wrong; that she wouldn’t like him. He recalled the first clear memory he had of Aunt Marge, and being shocked to discover that someone could have even more disdain for him than Petunia and Vernon. Of course, he knew she’d been told all of those lies about his parents, and about him, but that didn’t change the fact that the woman was just one in a long line of people who hadn’t taken to him. And then there had been Mr Wells in junior school, who had seemed to respect Uncle Vernon, but constantly berated Harry for being scruffy and lazy. And then there was Severus himself. He may have had his own reasons for hating Harry before he even arrived as a student there, but he hadn’t relented any of it when they’d finally met.

By the time Saturday morning dawned, Harry was positively fretting. He knew it was stupid to do so, but if he screwed this meeting up it could damage things irreparably between him and Severus. His husband may have described his relationship with Eileen as ‘not close’ but he obviously cared for her, and if things were already precarious between mother and son then Harry knew he needed to be cautious. Her knowing their marriage was a cover might explain why she hadn’t been present at the registration – were she fit enough to attend such things – but it might also have been due to tension with her and Severus.

When he awoke, he forced himself out of Severus’s arms, got up and dressed, and readied himself to go into Hogsmeade for some flowers.

It was rather quiet as he trod the path towards the village, shivering slightly beneath his jacket and scarf. No students were allowed into Hogsmeade until eleven o’clock, and so he knew he wouldn’t run in to any of them, but he still felt oddly self-conscious when he reached the boundary. He scowled at the chintzy display of Madam Puddifoot’s as he passed by, recalling the terrible date with Cho, and gave a cringing laugh at the thought of going in with Severus.

He returned with a bouquet of white lilies and roses, having been assured by the nice old witch in the shop that they were appropriate for a bereavement. When he returned to their tower, Severus raised an eyebrow at them.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you some next time,” said Harry, to which Severus pursed his lips. “Severus – does your mother still go by her marital name?”

“She does.”

“Do you – do you think she’d prefer if I called her by that, or by her given name?”

Severus smirked. “You’re nervous.”

Harry fidgeted. “Well – ”

“It is tradition to be anxious before meeting one’s in-laws, but _you_ look positively terrified.”

“I’ve just... never done this before. And – she has just lost her father.”

“She lost him a long time ago.” Severus paced once up and down, apparently to calm himself, and then looked back at Harry, exhaling thoughtfully. “Call her Eileen. Everyone does.”

When it was time to go, Severus threw a precise handful of Floo powder into the grate and said, “Twenty-nine, Weaver’s Road.” Harry, clutching the bouquet, followed immediately afterwards, and emerged from a small fireplace into a jarringly modern and _warm_ sitting room. The fireplace was not lit, but the two radiators at either end of the room had to be on full-blast.

Through the doorway closest to them, Harry could see a small kitchen, where he glimpsed a couple of upturned mugs on a compact draining board. There was another door, further along the same wall, which was closed. Between the two doors was a small, circular dining table and two chairs. To the other end of the room were two plush armchairs positioned before a television on a stand, with two large bookshelves on either side. It smelled mildly of something sweet and floral; maybe a perfume or some potpourri kept somewhere.

Severus walked over to the armchairs, coming to a stop in front of the one facing away from the window. Harry followed him, and as he came round he saw that inside the chair was huddled a little old lady. She had a couple of very ancient-looking shawls draped over her shoulders, and a crocheted blanket over her lap. She wore no makeup on her sallow, wrinkled face, but her long, dark grey hair had been elegantly plaited and pinned up. Her brow was still quite heavy, although the hair looked to have thinned and whitened as she’d aged. From the looks of it, she was naturally hunched over slightly, giving the impression that she was almost totally curled up in the armchair. She was still recognisable as the woman Harry had glimpsed in the Pensieve dropping Severus off at Platform Nine and three-quarters.

Severus did not stoop to kiss her, nor even place a hand on her shoulder, but he stood before her reverently, as though awaiting instruction. “Good afternoon, Mother,” he said steadily.

“Hello, Severus,” replied Eileen, her voice quite high-pitched and warbling.

“How are you today?”

“Unchanged. It’s chilly out.”

“It is.”

“Must be cold in Scotland – Ah, you brought him.”

Clutching the flowers, Harry stepped forwards. “Hello, Eileen,” he said, incredibly aware of his own voice and trying to not to be too loud. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Eileen smiled a curious, thoughtful kind of smile. Though she was not glamorous, it changed her face dramatically. She reached a hand out, seeming to unfurl like roots from a seed. “And you, Harry,” she said. “I suppose I ought to first thank you for saving our skins.”

Harry blushed, as he shook her delicate, bony hand with great care, feeling strangely as though he was eleven years old again and not used to being recognised.

“Don’t embarrass him, Mother,” said Severus.

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear.” Eileen retracted her hand back, tucking it somewhere beneath the warmth of the shawls.

Harry shook his head. “Please, don’t be.” He held up the bouquet a little for her to see. “These are for you.”

To Harry’s relief, Eileen’s black eyes lit up marginally when she saw the flowers. “How kind.”

“Not at all. And – I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. It’s an odd time. A very odd time indeed.”

Severus cleared his throat. “Accio,” he murmured, and from the kitchen a large, glass vase came zooming in, which he caught neatly. He placed it on the stand beside the television, and then held his hands out to Harry. “Here.”

Harry passed over the flowers, and Severus carefully transferred them into the vase, before finally pointing his wand at them, and the vase filled up halfway with water.

“That’s lovely,” Eileen remarked, observing the arrangement with a sort of pride.

“Has Jennifer done your shopping yet?” Severus asked her.

“Yes, and put it away.”

“Good. Tea?”

“Yes, I think so.”

Severus gestured at Harry. “Come, I’ll show you where everything is.”

The little kitchen was outdated by Muggle standards, except for a rather assertive-looking stainless steel oven and kettle, which were obviously brand new. Everything was also scrupulously clean. Severus flicked his wand to and fro, and the kettle filled itself from the tap while two mugs flew out from the cupboard. As everything came together, Harry noted with some amusement how much more elegantly Severus made tea than Ron.

“It really speaks for itself,” remarked Severus, eyeing the rather cutesy, mouse-themed matching jars of tea, coffee and sugar with a particular level of hatred. “She takes her tea with a small amount of milk – no sugar, but she likes a biscuit or two.”

“Those are for Jenny!” called Eileen feebly.

Severus rapped on the door of one of the overhead cupboards. “They’re in there.”

Harry nodded. While the tea was brewing, he removed his jacket and scarf and Severus directed him out through the other door into the much colder hall. It looked as though they were inside a complex of purpose-built flats, but the thick, sturdy walls suggested a quality, Victorian build. He wondered if perhaps it had been built to house workers at a local factory or something. He hung them on the coat stand, noting where the bathroom was, and then returned to find Severus in front of his mother again.

“I’ll take my leave before the man changes his mind again,” he was saying.

Harry looked over at the little ornate clock on the mantelpiece, and smiled to find they still had fifteen minutes. Severus, he knew, liked to be ten minutes early to everything if he could help it.

“Severus, you will show him some respect, won’t you?” said Eileen somewhat reproachfully. “He is your uncle, after all.”

Harry knew that Severus was privately thinking that Richard was not, and never had been his uncle, and was relieved when he merely shrugged and said, “I suppose I ought to hand it to him; he’s managed to resist Skeeter’s baiting so far.”

Eileen pulled a face. “It is actually remarkable. He was never really strong-willed, even as a boy.”

“Well, this should be _fascinating_.”

“Have you my letter there?”

Severus nodded, patting his waistcoat breast pocket once. “I shall hopefully be no longer than an hour.”

“Good, thank you.”

“See you in a bit,” said Harry, smiling at him in what he hoped was an encouraging way.

Severus gave him a stern look, but there was a glint of humour in his eyes as he turned and marched back over to the fireplace.

“Number five, Wintour Road,” he said.

It was odd seeing him Floo out; the hearth was much smaller than those at Hogwarts, and so it almost looked as though he was falling into a narrow pipe before the green flames engulfed him. When he was gone, everything seemed very quiet save for the ticking of the clock, and the hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen.

“He’s upset with me,” said Eileen after a couple of seconds.

Harry looked round at her. “I don’t think so?” he said, trying to sound reassuring. 

They lapsed into a rather awkward silence, and Harry went to the kitchen to pour their tea. “Is Jennifer your friend?” he asked Eileen when he returned and placed her teacup and saucer on the little table beside her chair, as he took the seat opposite.

Eileen smiled fondly at that. “She is. Her parents moved opposite us at Spinner’s End before she was born. It must have been when Severus was about sixteen, I think, and then she arrived not long after my husband left. I suppose Judith and Michael were worried about me, and so they brought her round for a visit. After that, it became a regular thing, and when she was a bit bigger I’d mind her for them sometimes. Now she looks after me; does the shopping, sometimes cooks and cleans. Likes to do my hair. The old Muggle ladies tend to cut theirs short, see?”

Harry nodded, smiling. “I’d never seen such long hair on people before I came to Hogwarts.”

“Yes, and beards.”

Harry chuckled and took a sip of tea. “So, are we close to Spinner’s End then?”

“A few streets away. I do wish Severus would get a move on and sell the place.”

“Do you think he will?”

“He has no reason to keep it now. I think he only did because he’s been able to return to his quarters at Hogwarts for most of the year. And then, during the war I suppose it was useful. I wasn’t allowed to visit him then. Too dangerous.”

Harry nodded.

Eileen reached out from the shawls and picked up her teacup and saucer in a blessedly steady grip. “I don’t think he likes to form an attachment to anything if he doesn’t have to,” she said. “He never really kept the place all that clean. I think it would do us both good if he were rid of it.”

Harry took another sip of tea, uncertain of whether any questions about their past would be welcome. He wouldn’t have deliberately pried, he knew, but it was interesting how much more open than her son Eileen appeared to be. He looked closer at the shawl she wore, which looked to be made of silk, and very delicately embroidered with serpents and plants. He wondered if she’d had it since she was young, and the clock, too, and also a rather delicate painting above the mantelpiece of a very grand building. It looked stationary, but there was something about the old, carved frame, and rather austere building in the picture that would fit right into an old wizarding house. He imagined a young woman tearing her favourite painting from the wall and shrinking it down into her bag before having to leave her family home forever.

“I have heard you were raised by an aunt,” said Eileen, when she’d finished her biscuit.

“That’s right. My Aunt Petunia and her husband.”

“Is that Lily’s sister?”

Harry perked up a bit. “That’s right, yes. I didn't know you knew her?”

“A little, when Tobias was out she came round once. And sometimes I'd meet them on the hill. A nice girl. Her friendship was very good for Severus. He never really took to anyone else. When she died, I worried that... I worried for him.”

Harry’s heart clenched at that. “Of course.”

Eileen was giving him a pitying look. “Have they any children, your aunt and uncle?”

“Yes. A son.”

“Ah, that must have been nice for you growing up.”

Harry chose that moment to eat his own biscuit, making a sound that could have been interpreted as either just vague noise or an affirmative.

“And... Severus tells me that you have a godson.”

“Yes, Teddy. He’s five.”

“A good age.”

“Yeah... Severus is good with him.”

Eileen looked slightly surprised at that. “Really? Well... I suppose he used to spend quite a bit of time with the Malfoys and their boy.”

Harry nodded. “Do you know them?”

Raising an eyebrow in an uncanny likeness of her son, Eileen said, “I doubt Mr Malfoy would want a blood traitor in his home.”

Harry privately thought that Lucius Malfoy probably ought to accept _anyone_ willing to pay him a visit these days if he knew what was good for him. It was so strange, the obsession with blood; that some people might not to want to associate with someone like Eileen, but her son was all right; a lesser wizard for being a half-blood, but nevertheless a mere ‘victim’ of his mother's mistake. It was almost as though they were trying to squeeze out the last traces of something once grand and make do with it.

“It was good, what you did for my son,” said Eileen, watching him.

Harry became very uncomfortable at that. “Well, he’s done a lot for me. And – for the wizarding world.” The Muggle world, too, since it would have become enslaved to Voldemort had he won, but he didn’t say that.

Eileen smiled then, and Harry imagined that she might have been a bit of a catch had she been happy in life. “Not really the heroic sort, is he?”

Harry wasn’t sure what she meant by that.

“Quiet. Insular.”

“Your son is a great man,” Harry said softly, not wanting to cause trouble by getting too defensive.

“He has done remarkably well for what he started with,” sniffed Eileen. “Of course my early teachings gave him an advantage.”

Harry remembered the greasy-haired little boy running around in scruffy clothes, and felt his heart harden slightly. He was willing to sit with Eileen for as long as Severus needed, but he was not sure how to feel now.

“I was always overlooked, you see,” she continued, her face gradually becoming more and more sour. “When I married Tobias I thought I might be important to someone else, finally. But he was just the same as the rest of them. Self-obsessed. Cruel. I would have been better off wedding that knock-kneed simpleton my parents presented to me when I was sixteen.”

“Were you engaged to him?” he asked, making sure to keep his voice even and not give anything away.

“Not for long.” Eileen smirked, looking rather pleased with herself. “My last great statement to my parents.” She deflated slightly. “I was too rash back then.”

Harry started to wonder if her problems were as much mental as physical, and if it wasn’t a recent development, either. He was getting the distinct impression of a woman who had sat in her chair feeling sorry for herself for the better part of ten years. And then he felt guilty for it. He didn’t know this woman’s full story. Perhaps she had been just as much a victim of her family as she had of her husband. Perhaps she’d escaped from one trap only to run straight into another.

He took another sip of tea, and successfully managed to engage her in a discussion about Gobstones instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! My apologies that this took a little longer to get out to you. I hope it's okay. There will be a slight continuation of Harry and Eileen's conversation in the next part. Lots of thanks to you all for reading!


	25. The Family Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus returns, and he and Eileen discuss matters. Later, Harry and Severus meet Slughorn for dinner.

Eileen’s disposition seemed to change on a constant ebb and flow. No matter which way Harry attempted to steer the discussion, it would inevitably return to her family and past.

“I wonder how the house looks?” she said excitedly. “I remember it so clearly. The front door, and the bell. The parlour at the front, where we were rarely allowed. Father always used it for his business meetings. Mother had a study for hers. The beautiful red dining room; we had so many guests over at one time. And the kitchens! When my brother and I were small we used to eat in there with the house-elves. Ditty and Lollie simply _adored_ us. And then there was the garden – oh! Harry, it was paradise in the summer, pure paradise. We used to have our picture taken every year in the same spot by the fountain. I wonder if they stopped doing it when I was sent away...”

Harry made them another cup of tea each while she went on, still listening and responding with the odd question or affirmation of his understanding. He hoped that he was doing the right thing by allowing Eileen to reminisce, but Severus hadn’t actually asked that he try to distract her from doing so. It seemed as though, far from upsetting herself by dwelling on things, she drew strength from recalling both the good and the bad. It was not always quite so comforting to _listen_ to, but he supposed that grief did strange things to people. He wondered how much of the desire to revisit her childhood home was based on her affection for it, or her own personal pride. Her speech described a very privileged upbringing, and a grand house not unlike Grimmauld Place. But for all her defensiveness, she didn’t strike him as the ultra-snobbish type, and indeed, had she been so she surely wouldn’t have risked it all by marrying a Muggle.

“Of course I regretted that Severus grew up never knowing my family,” Eileen went on. “But you see he grew to _appreciate_ the wizarding world all the more, being born away from it. _I_ gave him a more realistic experience in life.”

Harry found her conversation odd; one minute she would be fondly remembering her youth, the next bitterly recalling what she lost when her family disowned her, and then she would start on about the merits of raising a child in the Muggle world. It was almost as though she slipped in and out of a fantasy that her situation in life had been entirely her own design, and that it had been a happy, stable time. Harry supposed there could have been good years between the bad ones, but whenever her mask slipped and she began talking about Severus’s father, it was hard to imagine they were many.

It turned out that she had met Tobias when she was quite a way into her twenties, having often glimpsed him around her hometown. He would smile whenever he spotted her, and sometimes give her a little wink. Harry could hardly question her motivations for being taken in by him. He knew that he too would have been at least intrigued by such attentions, at least, from someone who couldn’t possibly know who he was already. And maybe that had been the point; meeting someone who didn’t have the foggiest idea of who the Princes were, and how much money Eileen might have coming her way in the future. She’d been closer to thirty when they actually married, and Harry thought her parents must have imagined she was just postponing the wedding with _their_ personal choice until she was ready. There was not the same rush with wizarding arranged marriages as with Muggle ones, as witches were not discouraged from pursuing careers, nor was thirty perceived as very old or any sort of cut off point. Nevertheless, he was startled that Eileen had managed to stave hers off for so long, and was mystified as to the actual order of events leading up to her disownment.

“He was a classic trap,” she said with an unpleasant smirk. “Handsome, charming. Lovely and devoted until we were married, and then suddenly I was never good enough. I thought when we had Severus he’d be pleased; Muggle men always wanted boys back then, but no. Said he was too much like me.”

Harry frowned. “Do you mean he was a wizard?” he asked.

“He meant everything. His looks, his magic, his temperament. Although, personally I always thought Severus rather like Tobias in that sense. Quick to anger.”

Harry dearly hoped she had never told Severus the latter part. He also couldn’t quite get an angle on when and how she’d informed Tobias that she was a witch. From the sounds of it, he must have known at least before Severus’s birth, but the depth of that knowledge remained a big question mark. He could also see why Eileen and Severus hadn’t really bonded after Tobias left. If she had been in this rather erratic mindset for some years, it wouldn’t have invited stability or comfort, and Severus himself wasn’t renowned for his soothing presence. It was entirely possible that he had not been the attentive son during that time, or even absent for most of it. During his years as a Death Eater, he may have resented his mother and her choices more than ever, and left her to her own devices either out of spite, or for her own protection.

She only brought Harry and Severus’s relationship up once, and barely acknowledged the nature of their marriage, or the reason for it in the first place. “The pair of you must make the best of this,” she told him rather sternly. “I can see you’ve come to an agreement, and that’s all very well, but this match is most advantageous for both of you. Especially now, what with Severus’s inheritance, you are both set for life. And for the Potter and Prince family names to be joined together – I cannot tell you what a fuss it would have caused just over a century ago!”

“A fuss?”

“For the _excitement_ of it. Just think of the possibilities, Harry.”

Harry wasn’t certain of what she meant by ‘making the best of’ their marriage. Perhaps she simply meant that they should attempt a real relationship, or simply avoid a separation of any kind. But her words alluded somewhat to him and Severus continuing their family line together, which was a ‘possibility’ that was just far, far too much to even speculate over right now. He wasn’t even sure what the procedure for such a thing would be. And he also found Eileen’s strange pride over the merging of their families slightly off-putting. He doubted that Severus held the Snape name in much affection, but the name had allowed him to make his way in the world with some anonymity. Indeed, as a child Harry had assumed he must come from some unpleasant line of purebloods of the same standing as the Malfoys, (which through his mother he was) but it didn’t necessarily mean he would embrace the Prince legacy with open arms.

When they’d been talking for over an hour and ten minutes, Harry grew a little worried, knowing Severus would hate to be kept past the amount of time he’d stated. He wished Eileen would say more about his mother, but it seemed that she did not know all that much. It sounded as though Severus had spent almost as much of his youth out of the house at Spinner’s End as his adulthood. Uncomfortably, Eileen spoke more about her neighbour Jennifer’s infancy than Severus’s, as though the memories of her baby son were almost nonexistent. Or as though they were not as dear to her. Again, Harry knew he could not press her on anything that might cause an argument. He didn’t even feel able to ask whether she had talked to Jennifer about magic in case she took it as an accusation of carelessness, but supposed that the latter would probably just think it was the ramblings of an eccentric old lady, anyway.

When Severus finally returned several minutes later there was not a hair out of place, although his expression was still stormy.

“Ah, Severus, how did it go?” Eileen asked, shifting up a bit in her chair.

“Well enough,” Severus responded shortly, dusting his robes off irritably.

“How is my brother? You did allow him to speak, didn’t you?”

“No, we’ve both been sitting in silence for the last hour and a half – _naturally_ I did or I wouldn’t have bothered going.”

“Well? What did he have to say?”

Severus gave her a reproachful sort of look. “I’m sure you could have predicted most of it. He opened the proceedings by expressing his ‘deep regret’ over the rift between our families all these years. He wishes for us to heal old wounds, bury the hatchet and what have you.”

“Don’t be sarcastic, Severus.”

“That is more or less what he said, when he finally got to the point.”

“Well, that’s very good of him.”

“Isn’t it just?”

“And what of your inheritance?”

Severus sneered at that. “All down in black and white already.”

“So, will you get the house?”

“Yes.”

“How does it look? Did he give you a tour?”

“Of sorts. I did try to keep things brief. The property is rather grim in my opinion.”

Eileen sniffed in an affronted sort of way. “Is it not clean?”

“It’s clean. I doubt anything has moved since you left.”

“I should like to see it. Richard will let me have a look after the funeral.”

Severus took a deep, but almost imperceptible intake of breath, as though something was paining him. “Mother, I wish you would reconsider that.”

Harry took that moment to stand up and grab his and Eileen’s mugs. “I’ll just wash these up,” he said vaguely, and walked into the kitchen, still listening out as he ran the tap.

“I am aware of your wishes, but these are mine. I wish for us to attend my father’s funeral, is that too much to ask?”

“Oh, naturally you’d drag me into it.”

“Severus you _must_ come, I cannot attend on my own! And Harry must come too.”

At that, Harry’s stomach clenched unpleasantly on Severus’s behalf, and he busily began scrubbing the two mugs with a little sponge he found on the side.

“Mother, that is _exactly_ the kind of gesture that Prince is after.”  
  


“And why _shouldn’t_ he want it? It wasn’t Richard’s fault what happened between myself and my parents.”

“But he has not contacted you _once_ in all this time.”

“Isn’t it obvious that he wanted to, though? After all these years, all this misery, I find myself in a position to forgive him.”

“...Even so, you are not fit to attend.”

“I am fit enough to sit down for an hour; why, I’ve just been doing it!”

“But think of the emotional strain – ”

“You’ll come, won’t you, Harry?” Eileen called out.

“...Whatever Severus decides, I’ll support him,” Harry replied carefully as he stuck his head around the door, and then ducked back into the kitchen to dry the mugs off.

Eileen rounded on her son furiously. “You’ve frightened him off!”

“I have done no such thing,” said Severus coldly. “Why would Harry wish to attend the funeral of someone he’s never met; whom rejected the only people with even a minor connection to him?”

“A _minor_ connection – Severus, he was my _father!_ I would like Harry to be there.”

“He is not an accessory to be flashed about!”

“He is good company. I should feel _supported_ if he came along.”

“Oh, I _see_.”

“ _What_ do you see?”

Severus heaved another great sigh. “In the end, it’s your decision, Mother. But you know you won’t regain _anything_ by going to that man’s wake.”

There was a pause, during which Harry took some rather unnecessary time placing the mugs back in the cupboard, before Eileen spoke again. “Well, I should like to attend for Richard’s sake, then. He’s all alone, my poor little brother. Only child dead and buried. Wife deserted him. When I think how he must have felt...” She trailed off, sounding rather choked up.

Harry dithered in the kitchen for as long as he could safely get away with, before offering more tea, and then feeling like an idiot for having washed the mugs up in the first place.

~o~

“What is she _looking_ for?” asked Severus when they arrived back at their quarters in the castle. “What does she _want?”_

“Closure, maybe?” said Harry, cleaning off both of their clothes with a swish of his wand. To his surprise, Severus threw himself down onto the sofa, allowing his robes to get crumpled beneath him.

“You’d think the old man’s death would offer enough of that,” he spat, closing his eyes. “How was she with you?”

Harry shrugged. “She was fine. She’s got a lot on her mind, but there were no problems.”

“Thank you.”

“That’s all right. Was everything really okay with Richard?”

“Bumbling fool. Utterly spineless.”

“Did you fight?”

“No – far from it. I don’t think that man would know where to start, anyway. He seems desperate for approval. I imagine he’s spent the better part of forty years just basking in the glory of being the child who didn’t disgrace the family name. I don’t think he had much else to offer in the way of making my grandparents proud.”

  
Harry leant over the back of the sofa and smiled down at him. “He talked a lot though?”

“On and _on_. He wanted me to take an interest in the family history – and of course he _really_ wants me to attend the funeral and disprove all of Skeeter’s accusations.”

“Do you think you’ll go?”

“If my mother is that determined, I’ll have to. She cannot possibly go alone.”

“No.”

Severus opened his eyes and looked at Harry. “I really don’t want to drag you into this, but she may never let it rest if you don’t come too.”

Harry gave him a knowing look. “I meant what I said. I’ll be there if that’s your decision.”

“It won’t be fun.”

“ – It’s a funeral, Severus.”

“I imagine Richard will make a speech. He does tend to drone on.”

“Putting the ‘fun’ in funeral.”

Severus snorted lightly. “Merlin...”

Harry straightened up. “Well, in the meantime we have old Slughorn’s company to look forward to tonight.”

“Oh, wonderful. I’d better take a nap.”

Severus pulled himself up off the sofa and went upstairs, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. Although he now felt rather foolish for all of his worrying over meeting Eileen, he knew that he was lucky it had gone so well. They had managed to avoid any upset by having another cup of tea and a biscuit, and talking a bit about Harry’s classes before leaving, but the meeting had given him a strong sense of a woman with a very changeable mood that would have contributed as much to Severus’s personality as his father’s aggressions. It had left him feeling rather sad, and just a little angry on Severus’s behalf.

When it was a quarter to six, Harry and Severus made their way to Slughorn’s office; Harry getting rather intense déjà vu as they approached the door.

“Severus!” Slughorn greeted jovially as he answered before either of them even knocked. “Harry! So good to see you both, I’ve been looking forward to this all week. Come, come!” He stood back and waved them both in.

The grand fireplace was lit along with many candles, making the place flicker attractively. The round table was laid for four and, Harry noted in surprise, there was someone occupying the chair facing away from them.

“I hope you don’t mind, Harry, but I happened upon a friend of yours and extended the invitation,” said Slughorn, approaching the table and beaming at the occupant of the chair. “The more the merrier, as they say!”

Harry tilted his head curiously, and his eyes widened when the mystery guest looked round.

“Neville!”

“Hello, Harry,” said Neville, with the flustered appearance of someone who had been suddenly pounced on and invited to dinner. He stood, and Harry ran over and hugged him.

“We missed you at Hermione’s birthday,” said Harry, giving him a squeeze and then pulling away to beam at him. “How were your travels?”

“Brilliant! Yes – er, brilliant.”

Slughorn was observing their reunion with delight, as though he had been planning this for years. Although Neville wouldn’t have made Slugclub during their time at school, Harry wasn’t surprised that he’d snapped him up now. Not only had Neville held his own, and protected other students during the Death Eater occupation of Hogwarts, but he had killed Nagini, and in doing so destroyed the last Horcrux. That made him a desirable addition to Slughorn’s collection, even if the man could not boast at having taught him.

Neville turned to look at Severus then, and Harry’s heart sank as both men visibly stiffened. He’d hoped that he might be able to speak to Neville in private before the two met, so that he could get a sense of how his friend really felt about their ex-Potions teacher. They had only managed to communicate via letters recently, and Neville’s reaction to his and Severus’s marriage had been indignant to say the least. Of all the people who had experienced Severus’s vindictiveness, Neville had arguably suffered some of the worst. Harry had no right to ask him to even tolerate the man, let alone anything more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies again for the longer wait this time around. As these three chapters cover one day I had to figure out where to divide them up and such and it all got a bit confusing. Still, I made my decision, and hope you all enjoy!
> 
> XX


	26. The Collector's Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry, Severus and Neville spend the evening with Professor Slughorn.

Neville, Harry was quite sure, had grown since he’d been away. That, or he’d lost a bit of weight and it had given the effect of elongating his previously more rounded form. He was also quite freckled across the nose where he’d caught the sun, and had a small cut on his chin, probably from having shaved for the first time in weeks. Suddenly, he looked like an adult man, and it was quite startling.

“Professor Snape,” he said, surprising Harry with the control in his voice.

“Mr Longbottom,” Severus replied, nodding.

“Sit down, gentlemen, sit down,” said Slughorn as he bustled over to a large cabinet in the corner, apparently ignorant to the unease between his guests. “Wine, you two?”

“Please,” replied Severus as Harry nodded.

“When did you get back?” Harry asked Neville, deliberately taking the only free place closer to Neville so that he and Severus wouldn’t be seated together. He knew that it might just be up to him and Slughorn to keep things comfortable tonight, and he doubted that the latter was aware of Severus and Neville’s history.

“This morning,” said Neville, sitting back down and looking slightly relieved to have had the exchange with Severus cut short. “How are you, Harry?”

“I’m very well, thanks. New job, as you know.”

Slughorn returned, levitating a glass of white wine each over to Harry and Severus, who both accepted them with thanks. “To a new school year, everyone!” he said as he sat down, and they all raised their glasses. After taking a swig, he gave a satisfied sound and placed his glass on the table delicately. “Well, this is nice. Can’t tell you how glad I am you three are working here – I always had a feeling – an intuition – ” He prodded at his temple. “ – about each of you, and just look at you all now! Heroes.” He raised his glass to Severus. “Adventurers.” He nodded at Neville who blushed and spilt a little wine into his own lap. “Pioneering new ways of thinking and educating.” He winked at Harry. “I am _proud_ , gentlemen!”

Attempting to recover from the slightly mortifying speech, Harry immediately began quizzing Neville about his travels as Slughorn followed, while Severus remained noticeably quiet. He was not the most talkative of men anyway, but Harry wondered if he was guarding himself, aware that any insensitive comments would make him unpopular, or if he might even be ashamed of his previous treatment of Neville. More likely he was still tired out from his meeting with Richard, but Harry hoped he would take some care if he addressed Neville at all.

Before long, their starter of smoked salmon and salad appeared, and they all began to tuck in. As they ate, Neville spoke enthusiastically of his time in Japan, describing a fairly grim time trekking through the magical swamps of Okinawa as he and a team of local witches and wizards searched for flora and fauna of interest. His good mood wasn’t even dampened when he described being stalked by a rather over-friendly water spider, and actually attacked by several different plants with Devil’s Snare-like tendencies.

“I see, I see,” said Slughorn, nodding along as Neville started explaining about the inner complexities of the Terrible Fern. “And what of the magical creatures there?”

Neville’s face fell a bit. “Well – there are some pretty incredible ghosts over there, you know? Not like _our_ ghosts. I mean – they have those too, but these ones weren’t really the spirits of people. They’re all _sorts_ of shapes. Some of them seemed closer to ghouls or other creatures. There was this one that looked a bit like a giant newt, called the Kappa. Not as aggressive as the local Muggles think, but still I – er, wasn’t terribly keen on getting too close, actually.”

“Whereas being nearly drowned by a giant fly-trap is fine,” said Harry, smiling at him.

“Oh, it wasn’t a _flytrap_ , Harry, it was a carnivorous physalis alkekengi – but it was _fascinating!”_

Neville launched back into describing wandering tendrils, beautiful but foul-smelling flowers, and floating lily pads nearly always concealing something nastier. Harry listened attentively, pleased that his friend had found his calling in life, but still aware of Severus’s quiet presence.

Slughorn seemed reasonably content with the talk; citing some of his own knowledge on uses for Japanese plants, but otherwise looked rather baffled that Neville wouldn’t wish to know more of the other wildlife there. “Talking of which I could do with some sprigs of snakeweed,” he said jovially, as their empty starter plates disappeared and the mains of spinach pie took their place.

  
“I have some in my private stores,” said Severus. “I can give you enough for a few draughts of Sweating Relief.”

“Ah! Splendid, Severus, I’m obliged to you.”

“Not at all.”

The two men spoke together for a little while, complaining mildly about the difficulties of ordering certain ingredients and the best places to go for what. Meanwhile Neville asked Harry about Hermione’s birthday, and her and Ron’s engagement. Throughout the meal, their drinks were continuously refilled by the wine bottles, which levitated themselves over to each of them, and so Harry made sure to take it slowly.

“How are your classes going?” Neville asked, scraping his plate with the last piece of pie on his fork.

“ _Good_ , I think,” Harry replied.

“I’ve heard some very positive feedback from all years,” said Slughorn, winking at him. “What are you teaching them at the moment?”

“Well, right now we’re looking at the relationship between the Muggle and wizarding worlds. The idea is to understand why we’ve never actually dared to just turn our backs on Muggles completely, and amongst other things why pureblood families are so rare.”

“Ah, a controversial topic. How do they like it?”

Harry bit his lip. “Some are more receptive than others. Some feel a bit... _attacked_ , but then of course they’ve never looked at things from a Muggleborn’s perspective.”

“Anyone in particular?” asked Severus.

“...I think Nicholas Stuart finds it a bit tedious sometimes.”

Severus smirked then. “Really?”

Harry gave him a puzzled look, and nodded. “...Yes. He does quite good work, when he’s in the mood, but I think his parents are among those who aren’t keen.”

Severus gave a small shrug, and went back to eating.

Slughorn was nodding to himself. “Yes, the Stuarts are a traditional lot,” he murmured.

“But you’re happy?” Neville said to Harry.

Harry nodded. “I am, yeah. How’s your gran?”

Neville talked about being pleasantly surprised by Augusta throwing a welcome back party for him (which consisted of him, her, and several of her rather doddery old friends but nevertheless he was touched), and then Slughorn said, “So, Mr Longbottom. You’re training with Professor Sprout?”

“Yes,” said Neville brightly. “She suggested I look into teaching, and I thought it might be a good idea.”

“Taking over from her, you mean?”

Neville went a bit pink. “...Maybe. Not soon, though.”

Slughorn pulled a considering sort of face as if to say that he thought Neville could do better than that, but then he shrugged. “Well, I’ll see plenty of you for ingredients, I’m sure.”

Neville nodded, looking both pleased and terrified at the thought.

Dessert was served not long afterwards, and Slughorn once again rounded on Neville. “Mm,” he said, after a few spoonfuls of ice cream, gesturing at Neville. “I expect you were surprised to learn your friend and old teacher were married?”

Harry tensed.

“ – Very,” said Neville, after swallowing his own mouthful of ice cream carefully.

Slughorn chuckled, looking between Harry and Severus. “Yes, I know. Certainly kept things quiet, didn’t they?”

Neville looked up from his bowl, straight at Severus. “Yes. And it’s quite the age difference.”

Although it was said casually, and his face remained blank, Harry detected the small spike in his delivery. He looked between the two of them nervously, unsure of where this would go. Severus merely looked at Neville, unblinking.

Slughorn laughed again. “Yes, mind you, age gaps do seem to close the older we get.”

“Do you think so?” asked Neville, looking at him, and Slughorn must have picked up the slight dip in temperature in the room then, because he smoothly changed the subject.

“Oh yes, especially when one is out of adolescence. Mind you, you lot will always be children to _me_ , but then children do grow up so very fast. You have a godson, Harry, I’m sure you’ll agree?”

“Er, yes,” said Harry, a bit nonplussed.

“Remus Lupin’s son, I’m told?”

“Yes. Teddy.”

“And I hope you don’t mind my asking, but – he isn’t, er – ?”

“No,” said Harry quickly, clearing his throat to try and soften his response somewhat. “No, he’s not a werewolf.”

Slughorn gave a slow nod, his smile gentle and eyes slightly wide, as though he’d realised that this, too, was a sensitive subject. While he knew Slughorn liked to keep his ‘stars’ close to his chest instead of sharing them with the public or media, Harry was reluctant for him to meet Teddy. He didn’t want Remus and Tonks’s deaths to overshadow Teddy’s life, and feel that his worth would be in constant measure up against theirs. And while there had been gestures by the Ministry to improve things for werewolves, he knew that the stigma’s attached to Remus’s curse would still affect his son on occasion.

“And you look after him sometimes, eh?” asked Slughorn, more tentatively this time.

“ _More_ than sometimes,” said Neville, and then turned to Harry. “You had him for the better part of two years when Andromeda was doing that thing for the Ministry, didn’t you?”

Harry nodded.

“Is he with her during the weeks now?”

“Yeah, it – it made sense that way.”

“Goodness, that’s quite a responsibility!” Slughorn exclaimed. “What a fine young man Harry turned out to be, eh Severus? Not that it’s a surprise – far from it – but you must be ever so proud as well?”

“Yes, I am eternally grateful,” drawled Severus, as Harry narrowed his eyes at him, trying not to laugh.

“Mm, and while I’m delighted you’re here, I must confess I was rather surprised you went into teaching,” Slughorn continued, between a couple of sips of wine. He was growing just a little red in the face, Harry noticed.

“I’m not,” said Neville. “You were so good at DA meetings.”

“DA?” asked Slughorn.

The dessert bowls vanished as Neville began telling him all about Umbridge’s horrible lessons, and their secret meetings during their fifth year. As he went on, Slughorn’s gaze seemed to shine with admiration whenever he looked over at Harry, and as he was directly opposite the man, it was quite uncomfortable, not to mention embarrassing. Harry knew he had only really been of interest to Slughorn because he was the Boy Who Lived, and his cheating using Severus’s old Potions book had basically leant itself to the occasion, especially when Dumbledore had asked him to get closer to the old man. It was people like Severus who were the true talents among the ex-Slugclub members, but as his career before the war had seemed neither heroic nor glamorous, Slughorn had overlooked him at the time.

“Remarkable,” said Slughorn, as Neville finished up by explaining how the whole thing had to be disbanded when Umbridge caught them. “Remarkable.”

“Indeed,” said Severus. “It’s a wonder you weren’t found earlier.”

Harry cleared his throat awkwardly. “That was mainly down to Hermione, of course.”

“Ah, yes – the usual insurance from Miss Granger.”

“It was _brilliant_ ,” said Neville, having apparently interpreted Severus’s comments as scathing. “The whole thing. Completely worth it.”

Harry smiled. “You did really well.”

Neville pulled a curious sort of face; a sort of smile and frown at the same time. “It’s amazing what you can achieve when you have a good teacher.” He looked around at them all. “I hope you don’t mind but I think I’ll head to bed? But this was great, thank you, sir.”

Slughorn blinked a little hazily, and then beamed and nodded. “Oh – of course, my boy! You must be exhausted. But please – call me Horace. And you’re very welcome. Very welcome.”

Neville stood up, nodding at them all. “Good night, everyone.”

“‘Night,” said Harry distractedly, and Neville shot him a small grin.

There was an awkward pause in the wake of Neville’s departure. Harry wasn’t too concerned that his friend was angry with him; he’d seemed perfectly glad to see him, but he knew that the problems were not entirely over. The dig at Severus had been small, but obvious, and most likely Slughorn hadn’t missed it either, because as soon as the door closed, he stood and said, “Come, come! Let’s get a photograph!”

“What?” said Severus, forgetting himself.

“I want a picture of my two best students as a couple, come along!”

Harry and Severus got up rather stiffly and moved in front of the large window as Slughorn directed. Harry linked arms with Severus, and gave a rather embarrassed smile at the camera, for what was just the second posed photograph of the two of them together. Slughorn’s camera was a large, cumbersome thing, and where he’d retrieved it from Harry had no idea. When it flashed, it blinded him for about a second, and he blinked furiously to regain his sight. Slughorn took two more pictures, and then placed the camera down on the table.

“Excellent! Excellent!”

Harry gave Severus a look as they returned to the table, and the other man raised an eyebrow at him.

“A small night cap before you go, gentlemen?” Slughorn asked, waving over a different bottle of something.

“ – Er, why not?” said Harry, as his glass was already being filled with brandy.

“Yes, I shall add that to my collection,” muttered Slughorn, glancing over at the display of all the photographs of his Slugclub members. “It was about time I had another one of you, Severus.”

Severus just gave a small nod and sipped his drink. He was looking a bit tired, Harry observed.

“And Harry – of course I could always find one of you from the papers, but it’s nice to have the real thing.” Slughorn hiccupped. “I mean – a picture _I’ve_ taken, you know?”

“Yeah,” said Harry, smiling softly.

Slughorn stared at him for a few moments, and then turned to Severus. “Do you know – he’s really quite like his mother Lily? Wouldn’t you say? You were in the same year, weren’t you?”

“We were,” replied Severus, his voice surprisingly gentle as he too looked at Harry.

“But don’t you think? The eyes, of course – but maybe without your glasses, you just – you do have a likeness of her.”

Harry blushed a little under the scrutiny, and said, “Most people say I look like my dad.”

“And no doubt you do – but I didn’t know him, really. Not even when I taught him Potions. His interests were elsewhere, I believe.”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“But _Lily?”_ Slughorn sighed wistfully. “A brilliant witch of truly unique talent.”

“That she was,” said Severus.

Harry did want to know more. His mother was still rarely mentioned in comparison to his father. James had seemed to dominate most people’s memories because of his looks, humour, and outgoing personality... and for his more unfortunate traits. He supposed people naturally went to talk about the parent he more closely resembled; the one they assumed he must have the most in common with. But here Slughorn was, saying that he looked like Lily, too. He wanted to hear it, except right now, in front of Severus, it felt rather bittersweet.

“I remember,” Slughorn began, chuckling slightly. “She used to prepare everything immaculately on her desk. And she would read through the instructions twice – and of course executed nearly every potion beautifully. But if her classmates didn’t understand why theirs wasn’t going well, she’d try to explain – now, now, you can’t just throw everything in and expect it to go perfectly! And they’d tell her she was too fussy, you know – and then she’d just get on with her work. Almost blanking them, but not in a cruel way. And of course theirs would go wrong... and she always offered help. Didn’t like anyone being embarrassed, even if they deserved it, really. Always looking out for others, she was.”

Harry listened, feeling warm, and a little sad. The fire was burning low now, and Slughorn was definitely swaying just a bit.

“I think we should say goodnight, Horace,” said Severus, standing up.

Slughorn raised his head, which had been drooping slightly. “Oh – yes,” he said, smiling stupidly. “I – am very grateful to you both for coming.”

“Thank you, Horace,” said Harry, also getting to his feet and wandering over to put a hand on his back. “Will you be all right getting to bed?”

“Yes, yes. Thank you, dear boy. Good night to you.”

“Good night.”

Harry and Severus made the surprisingly long journey back to their quarters. His awareness slightly muffled by alcohol, a full belly, and fatigue, Harry thought that the darkened corridors of the school seemed narrower than he remembered. The two men were silent, both tired and thoughtful after a slow day.

When they arrived at the tower, Harry went straight up to the bathroom to brush his teeth, and then went to his bedroom to change into his pyjamas. Severus joined him a few moments later, sliding beneath the sheets with him, and spooning up against him from behind. He kissed his cheek, and to Harry’s surprise, pressed more to his jaw and down his neck. He’d assumed Severus might be too tired for any affections tonight, but apparently not.

Severus sucked gently at the junction between Harry’s neck and shoulder, which the latter loved, but found he was not quite in the same place.

He was obviously thinking about _her_ , he realised. Lily.

Severus pulled away slightly. “What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.

“Nothing – nothing I’m fine,” said Harry, looking back at him and trying to appear inviting.

“No.” Severus released him and moved away. “You’re not in the mood.”

Harry shrugged. “But I could... _get_ in the mood, maybe?”

Severus shook his head. “You’re tired. Sleep.”

As Severus snuffed out the lamps and settled down to sleep, Harry felt rather empty. His thoughts were swirling around his mind. He wanted some Dreamless Sleep, but he was down to the last two vials now. Severus would have questions if he noticed. Tomorrow, he decided, he would go to the library and begin researching Occlumency. This couldn’t go on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, thanks so much again for your comments and kudos and everything. My apologies that I haven't got the time to respond to everyone all the time, but I really do appreciate all of it. I hope you like this chapter. Again, there's something about conversations over meals that is really tricky to write so I hope this isn't really boring. Thanks again!


	27. Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry begins researching Occlumency, and ends up having two unexpected conversations and one he anticipated.

Harry was woken up by Ron’s tawny owl tapping at the window. Ever the early riser, Severus had already left, probably to tend to a potion he was brewing somewhere. He’d left a tray with some tea and a plate of toast and spreads for him on the dresser, and Harry took a slice and put it in his mouth as he went to grab the letter from the bird and pay it, before sitting on the edge of the bed to read.

_Hi Harry,_

_Hope everything’s okay. Have you talked to Snape yet? Hermione’s getting worried about you. And have you seen Neville?_

_Ron_

Harry sighed, remembering the conversation with his friends from the previous weekend, and the events of the day before. He dressed and took the letter with him to the library to reply, not wanting to risk Severus reading it. He only met a couple of seventh years along the way as most of the students were still eating breakfast or having a lie in.

After a while perusing the Restricted Section, he found only two books that listed Legilimency and Occlumency in their indexes, and felt strange knowing that these were likely the very books Severus had pored over as a student. He took them out of the Restricted Section with him into the lighter, more open area where Madam Pince was wandering to and fro keeping an eye on the students, and sat at a table. Checking that the woman wasn’t looming over his shoulder, Harry reread Ron’s letter, and then retrieved some parchment and a quill and ink. He wrote, _Tell Hermione (as I know you’re not worried about me at all. Even a bit.) I haven’t been able to have that talk with him yet, but one of you probably read about his grandfather’s death in the paper recently. It’s not for me to discuss, but he asked me to help him out with something, which I think is a good sign. I will try, but things are a bit complicated right now._

He rubbed at his forehead distractedly, over his scar. He wished he could tell his friends about Severus’s feelings for his mother so that he could ask for advice, but also suspected that if he did, they would both encourage him to get away from the man immediately. He updated them a bit on Neville instead, suggesting that he should bring him back with him to Grimmauld Place for dinner at some point, and then sealed the parchment and stuffed his response and Ron’s letter into his bag.

He reached for the promisingly titled _Magicks of the Mind_ and skipped ahead to the Occlumency section with the guilt of one who knew that there was probably valuable content in the rest of the book as well. Still, for now he wanted to get to the point.

_While Legilimency draws many a witch or wizard in with its promises of power and knowledge beyond nature, Occlumency is the art that it relies upon. Occlumency is simultaneously one’s castle and keep. It easily requires more skill and patience than its sister art, as clearing the mind is a far greater feat than that of invading another._

“You got that right,” Harry muttered to himself.

“Er, sorry, sir?”

Harry started and looked over in the direction of the voice to find Enoch Jones watching him curiously from where he was sitting cross-legged beneath a bookshelf, quite out of sight from most of the library. There was a large book in his lap, and a Quick Quotes Quill scribbling out some text onto a scroll beside him. At Harry’s look, he suddenly seemed to remember himself, and went as red as his darker colouring would permit.

“I didn’t follow you again!” he said hastily, and placed his book down beside him before crawling out from beneath the shelf. The quill continued to scratch out text furiously. “Not that I – well, me and my friends – we were just curious seeing you and _Professor_ _Snape_ with a child, and – !”

“That’s all right, Mr Jones,” hissed Harry, waving his hand to try and quieten the boy a little before he started digging himself into another hole. “What are you up to down there?”

Enoch blinked as he came over. “Me?” he whispered. “I’m just doing my Astronomy homework. I can get a bit... behind with my reading, you know? Madam Pince says as long as I’m quiet and out of the way I can sit where I like.”

Harry nodded. “Well, it’s good you’re catching up.” He nodded at the book. “Are you able to follow that all right?”

“Yeah. You – you know I have that quill now to help me?”

“Yes.”

“It’s _amazing!_ It writes out the words in this style that’s easier to read. And the colour’s better, too. Although...” Enoch looked around them conspiratorially. “I actually prefer to take it back with me, and then I have this spell that reads it out loud.”

Harry wanted to get back to his reading, but there was something about Enoch’s earnestness that was just impossible to ignore. “Not with your friends?” he asked him.

Enoch’s shoulders sagged at that. “We had an argument. Nothing bad. It’s just...” He swallowed, and for one awful moment, Harry thought he was going to cry.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“ – No,” said Enoch, shaking himself and looking away to dry his eyes.

“It might help?”

“It won’t.”

Harry’s heart clenched at the thickness of the boy’s voice. He could _feel_ his humiliation at tearing up in front of a teacher, and knew that a distraction might be appreciated. “It’s the Quidditch try-outs next weekend,” he said cheerfully. “Might be a good way to make up with your friends, going to watch.”

Enoch sniffed and perked up a little. “Yeah... I like Quidditch.”

“Would you want to try for it?”

“No.” Enoch’s face became sour again. “I’m not much of a flyer. I’m not much of _anything_ , really.”

Harry watched him closely, feeling steadily more concerned for the boy. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“Easy for _you_ to say. Look at what you’ve done. Seeker in First Year. Defeated You-Know-Who twice – and all his followers. Everyone knows all about your adventures during school. And then... then you wrote all those articles. You’re good at _everything_.”

Harry smiled. “Wrong. You know – all of the stuff leading up to the war, and then during it – I had no choice. I was really quite an average student in many ways until Voldemort came back, and then what I became good at I _had_ to learn. And fast. But to tell you the truth, I’ve always been surrounded by far superior witches and wizards.” He thought of Hermione and her genius, and of Ron for his skills in strategy and knowledge of the wizarding world. Of his father’s achievements and the rest of the Marauders; Animagi by fifteen, and then the _map_ ; what a stunning piece of magic it was. Enoch was still looking doubtful, staring glumly at the floor, and Harry sighed. “I know this might not mean much to you, but – don’t lose heart, Jones. You’re only thirteen, and if Hogwarts isn’t where you find what you want to do, you have plenty of time to sort it out.”

Enoch gave a small smile. “I’m fourteen now, actually – but thanks.”

“Oh, practically _ancient_.”

Enoch laughed. “It’s just...” His face fell again. “I don’t even have an _idea_ of what I might do when I leave. It just feels like everyone else is on the right track already.”

Harry turned in his chair to face him properly. “Listen, I thought I wanted to be an Auror until I was seventeen. My best friend trained to become one, and then decided to run a joke shop with his brother. My friend Neville only really discovered he like Herbology at your age, and he’s only just decided to become a teacher. And I know I probably seem old to you, but we’re all _still_ young, that’s the thing. Things change – they _will_ change – and it’s okay. There is always time to figure things out.”

“...I s’pose.”

“And I know it feels like everyone else knows who they are and what they’re doing, but believe me, most of them are winging it.”

“You think?”

“Definitely.”

Madame Pince stuck her head out from behind a shelf then, a finger raised to her lips. “Shh!”

~o~

Harry ended up taking the two books out of the library, having spent the remaining morning chatting to Enoch. He could still see the boy’s worried face in his mind’s eye, even as he went to the Owlery to send off his reply to Ron, and then returned to the tower. Severus was reading in front of the fire, but he looked round when Harry entered.

“Hello,” said Harry.

“Where were you?” asked Severus.

“The library.” Harry retrieved Ron’s letter from his bag and walked over to the fireplace to throw it in.

Severus watched the parchment slowly unravel and blacken as it caught. “I’ve heard back about the funeral.”

Harry sat down beside him. “Oh, yes?”

“It will be held at ten o’clock on Friday morning. Minerva has agreed to arrange coverage for my classes that day... she said she will do the same if you are willing to attend?”

Harry gazed into the fire, still deep in thought over his talk with Enoch. “Yeah, of course. I’ll probably just assign them all some reading, to be honest.” He could sense Severus’s mild disapproval of this, but no admonishments came.

After a few moments, Severus said, “It will be at the Prince family home – and I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve agreed for Narcissa Malfoy to accompany us.”

_That_ got Harry’s attention. “Oh? Okay. Did she know Mr Prince?”

“The younger, yes. They were acquaintances – they both belonged to some institute or other. She didn’t know of his connection to me until the war, or not _formally_ at least.” Severus’s lip curled. “But her attendance alone might be a good deterrent for Prince to try anything with the papers.”

“Do you think he will?”

“Depends on how threatened he was by Skeeter. Narcissa will be there to support us, but he’ll be glad that she’s there at all. Help him feel validated, I'm sure.”

“Right.” Harry looked back at the fire. Friday was certainly going to be interesting, he thought.

Severus cleared his throat. “It’s Longbottom, isn’t it?” he said after a beat.

Harry frowned, looking up at him again. “ – Sorry?”

“He is your friend. I am aware that this is an uncomfortable situation.”

Harry was confused. “You mean last night?”

Severus inclined his head. “It may have come to a head slightly – he’s _certainly_ managed to develop that spine of his in the last six years – however, I’ll own to it that during your school years I failed to control my temper where you or he was concerned.”

Harry pulled a face. “Would you... phrase it like that?”

Severus _fidgeted_ then, and it struck Harry that he actually looked cowed. “Do you expect us to be on speaking terms?”

“I don’t know if I expect _anything,”_ Harry admitted after a few moments, still surprised Severus had brought the subject up in the first place. “I’d rather you were both comfortable enough to be in the same room together, but that’s probably asking a bit too much right now.”

“Nevertheless, I understand if you may be harbouring some strong emotions over my history with him.”

“Well, I’m not angry about that right now, if that’s what you’re concerned over. I _have_ been. I suppose there’s loads of things you and me could be angry with each other about.”

“But you’re not right now? Even with Mr Longbottom’s clear distaste for our situation?”

“Well, I know I’ll need to have a talk with him at some point, but ultimately I think he’ll probably deal with it however he wants to. Sorry, last night I... assumed you didn’t want me to leap to your defence or anything?”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Certainly not. I can handle _Longbottom’s_ slights.” He looked away. “But of course – as he is your friend it’s really _your_ opinion that matters the most.”

Harry shrugged. “Honestly, it sounds like you’ve thought about it more in the last twelve hours than I have.”

Severus scowled. “I wouldn’t say that.”

Harry smirked. “Not nervous of him, are you?”

_“Hardly.”_

“Well, all right. Look, I knew it was going to be awkward with Neville from the start, and I don’t blame him for _anything_ that he feels. He’s struggled all his life, some of it is by his nature – he’s different. But enough of it has been down to other people.” Harry paused, remembering Enoch’s shining eyes, and the fears he’d confessed to him. He exhaled softly. “But I’m not... currently upset with you about it. Last night you were perfectly civil, and behaved in the only the way you really could.”

Severus nodded. “I’m glad you recognised my efforts. You just seemed... off. Not because of when we went to bed, but – you were so quiet.”

“It was a long day.”

“Yes. It was. And then today, you seem distracted.”

“Yes – yes. It’s just... I met Enoch at the library. I’m worried about him.”

“Jones?”

“Yeah. He’s getting on with his new quill fine – doing some homework. But he was alone. I think he’s had a falling out with his friends or something.”

“The other Slytherins?”

“I think so? I know he’s friends with Bernard Percy who’s a Gryffindor, but he wasn’t around either.”

Severus gave a curt nod. “I’ll keep an eye on things. I don’t believe it’s been an issue before now, but Jones is a Muggleborn. His housemates might not understand all of his troubles.”

Surprised by the information, Harry blinked. “Oh. So... he probably wouldn’t get much help from home with his work, then.” He remembered Hermione talking about the struggle during the summer holidays. Her parents were perfectly supportive and loving, but they’d had no access to or knowledge of the wizarding world, and so she’d _had_ to push herself, even as self-sufficient as she was. But what with Enoch’s trouble getting his Hogsmeade form signed as well, he couldn’t help feeling even more concerned that _home_ might actually be the source of the boy’s problems.

“It’s possible,” said Severus, and when Harry met his eye, he knew he was thinking along the exact same lines as him.

“He wouldn’t talk about it,” Harry explained.

“I imagine not, which keeps it a private matter.” At Harry’s hesitation, Severus’s voice became gentler. “It may be that he has had an unfortunate week, and that by the next it will be forgotten.”

“I hope so.”

“I will check in on the third year Slytherins. I will take care to be subtle.”

“If you can manage it.”

“Brat.”

Harry smirked and stood up, grabbing his bag and heading to his bedroom. He lay on his front with _Magicks of the Mind_ propped up on a pillow, and continued reading.

~o~

Before dinner that afternoon, Harry accompanied Neville for a walk around the grounds. Like him, Neville seemed able to push the horrors of the war away, and was delighted to be back at Hogwarts. It was already quite dark, and the only bright lights were from the castle, Hagrid’s hut, and the odd torches that were positioned around the grounds.

“I’ve missed these views,” he said to Harry as they looked out over the lake, which wasn’t quite steaming yet in the cold.

“I know what you mean,” Harry agreed. “I suppose our time here got cut short, really.”

“The interrupted generation,” said Neville. “That’s who we are.”

“We’re making some of it back up, though.”

“Yeah.”

Harry watched Neville for a moment, thinking about how much they had changed since their school days.

“I still can’t believe you _married_ him,” snapped Neville finally, and Harry nodded, having expected this at some stage.

“I know,” he said carefully. “It’s just... I couldn’t _not_ do it. I couldn’t stand the idea of not helping him.”

“I understand _why_ , Harry.” Neville turned to him. “You’re a good person. But let’s not pretend that’s the only reason you’re cooperating with each other. I _know_ you like him, I could tell – The way you looked at each other. I wasn’t pleased about it, but I can mind my own business. It doesn’t mean I think he deserves you, though.”

Harry sighed. “I don’t blame you, if you can never – ”

“Forgive him?”

“Well that too, but I was thinking more if you can never _tolerate_ him. He tormented you, Neville. Constantly, for five years. I understand.”

“You understand because he did the same to you. Don’t think no one else noticed, Harry. He was _vile_. And yet you’ve forgiven him?”

“For a lot of it, I have. It’s all very complicated, and I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to convince you to do likewise.”

“Do you think he’s sorry for any of it?”

“He’s certainly _embarrassed_. As he should be.” Harry looked at Neville sadly. “Can you forgive me for forgiving him?”

Neville gave a pained laugh at that. “I could excuse _you_ for anything. I just doubt your sanity.”

Harry snorted, looking back out at the lake. “You sound like Ron.”

“Good. I can team up with him if Snape ever puts a foot out of line.”

They lapsed into silence again, one that was rather less awkward than the one before.

“Did you meet anyone while you were away?” Harry asked after a few moments.

Neville blushed pink. “There was this girl, Yui. We didn’t – I mean, we didn’t understand enough of each other’s language and so I never got round to asking if she wanted anything more, but there was – I mean, we did – a couple of times...”

“I see,” said Harry, grinning.

“I did try. I mean, I had a bit of Japanese but most of what I’d memorised was asking where to find plant life or where was the best place to eat. I made a complete fool of myself every time I tried to talk to her about anything else, but at least she probably thought it was just because of the language barrier.”

“I’m sure you did fine, Neville.” Although, Harry thought a little sadly, that it had to be plainly obvious to anyone that Neville was a great ball of anxiety.

“We write. I mean – that’s easier with translation spells and everything, but I didn’t want to say anything over a piece of paper, you know?”

“And are you still learning Japanese?”

This time, Neville went bright red. “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah, thanks again all! So pleased this is still entertaining. The fic will start to speed up a little from here as we move towards Christmas. At least I hope so... you never know when one event will unexpectedly take up like three chapters lol.
> 
> So I've noticed I'm getting a few requests for mpreg on this fic. While I'm not confirming or denying anything in regards to Harry and Severus's future right now, I won't be dropping any _unplanned_ pregnancies into this fic, as it wouldn't fit with where I'm going. While I'm not against the idea that they could conceive a child through magic, in my own personal version of this universe it would be a very complicated spell and not one that would just sort of happen randomly. Harry and Severus have a lot to sort out before they're ready to expand their family with such a huge decision, so I am sorry to disappoint any of you, but as the subject of families will be brought up in other ways, I didn't want anyone thinking it might be a possibility and then getting disappointed anyway if it didn't happen. In the meantime there will be more of Severus getting to know Teddy, which I hope will tide you over :) Thanks for your enthusiasm, though! It does mean a lot <3


	28. The Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry, Severus and Eileen attend Severus Prince's funeral.

Eileen wore plain black robes with one of her old shawls draped around her shoulders, and fastened with a beautiful silver brooch in the shape of a snake. She was rather quiet as Severus handed her a wooden walking stick, and Harry picked up her bag for her.

They Floo’d from her home to Number Five Wintour Road, emerging in a burst of green flames from a large fireplace into a high-ceilinged drawing room. Eileen had insisted that she would follow Harry and Severus there, and so Severus immediately held his hand out to her as she arrived to help her out of the fireplace.

Harry, meanwhile, looked around the room. While it was obviously kept perfectly clean and tidy, the stillness of the air, the thick, chintzy drapes and dark, pinkie-red of the wallpaper and furniture was rather oppressive. It struck Harry as more like a museum than a home; a sort of haven for the likes of Umbridge and Aunt Petunia.

Eileen shuffled over to his side. “Mother’s favourite room,” she said, smiling at him, and Harry, hoping that his unease hadn’t been showing on his face, quickly smiled back.

Severus looked about as out of place in such a room as it was possible to be. His tall, dark form stood rigidly in the centre of it as he watched his mother closely, presumably for any signs of distress.

There were footsteps outside, and then the only door to the room opened, revealing a man Harry recognised as Richard Prince. He was now grey-haired and rather stooping, but was still quite handsome.

“Ah, I thought I heard you,” he said, his voice surprisingly light and nervy. When he saw his sister, he inhaled sharply. “Eileen.”

“Dear Richard,” said Eileen, holding out her hands.

Richard took them in his own, and bent down to kiss her cheek. “It’s been too long.”

Brother and sister stared at each other for a few moments, until Severus spoke up. “Where would you like us?”

“Oh, Severus – thank you so much for coming. It really means – ”

“Of course,” Severus interrupted.

Richard looked at Harry then, and did a double take. Severus mustn’t have told him he was coming, Harry thought.

“ _Mr Potter!”_ He breathed. “What an honour – ”

“Hello, Mr Prince,” said Harry, shaking the man’s hand before he got too carried away. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Richard seemed to come back to himself, as though he’d temporarily forgotten what they were all here for. “...Well, thank you. Thank you.”

“Are we in the parlour?” Eileen asked.

Richard smiled at her. “How did you know?”

“It was his favourite room. Of course that’s where he is.”

Richard straightened up a bit and walked back to the door. “Please, if you’d all like to follow me.”

They walked out into a wide hallway, and turned right towards the front door. When Harry looked up, he saw a crystal chandelier dangling on a long chain over the stairwell, and thought he spotted the large eyes of a house-elf watching him through the banisters, before they vanished.

Richard led them into the front room; standing back to allow them through first. It was panelled in mahogany about halfway up, and above that had navy blue flock wallpaper. It, too had a chandelier, but this one was made of iron. A few chairs had been placed in three rows facing the window, before which lay an open casket on a long table. Harry was slightly taken aback to see it, even at a fair distance away. While he’d expected to see a coffin at the funeral, he hadn’t expected to meet Severus Prince face to face, so to speak. As they moved in, he caught a glimpse of the man’s profile; skin yellow-grey with death. He hoped they wouldn’t all have to file past in front of the body as he’d seen people do on television. He wouldn’t have the slightest idea of what to say, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to pay any respects to someone who caused so much misery in Severus’s life. He wondered if, had Mr Prince had been able to swallow his pride, just once, what kind of upbringing his grandson might have had. Perhaps he wouldn’t have made an affectionate figure to the young Severus, but there had to be some reason why Eileen still adored him. Perhaps, had things been different, Severus might have had some stability, and safety.

Harry helped Eileen into a chair at the front, and Richard produced a cushion from somewhere and offered to place it behind her. She looked pleased at this, and leant forwards as he did so, and then Richard sat to one side of her to say something under his breath.

Harry looked at Severus, unsure if he would be comfortable with Richard and Eileen talking together, but he nodded.

There were only a few other people in the room with them; a rather sullen wizard with a long grey beard going through some papers at the front, another purple-faced old man sitting in the second row with his eyes shut in either grief or sleep, and two very frail-looking old ladies in long, beaded necklaces and sparkling earrings dangling from their drooping earlobes. They huddled together on the back row of chairs, and despite their finery, Harry thought they looked a bit like pair of rather frazzled baby birds. One of them caught his eye and muttered something to the other. Harry quickly looked away.

At that moment the door opened, and Narcissa Malfoy swept in, resplendent in chic, dark purple robes, with her long blond hair pinned up and coiffed beneath a little hat to match. Harry was surprised when she was quickly followed in by her son, and for a moment, he feared that Lucius might make an appearance too. When no one else brought up the rear behind them, he relaxed.

Narcissa made a beeline for them, Malfoy keeping close to her like a nervous cub might with its mother. “Severus,” she said with an uncommon warmth. “How are you?”

Severus shrugged. “As you might expect.”

There was a glimmer of humour in Narcissa’s eye, and Harry imagined that they must have spoken about the situation before now. The two of them exchanged a few more pleasantries, as Harry caught Malfoy watching him and offered a nod.

Seeing his old enemy again suddenly brought back the memory of that explosive fight with Severus all those weeks ago. While Harry knew he had never harboured a crush on the other man, he was momentarily struck by the absurdity of Severus’s accusations that day.

“All right, Potter?” said Malfoy icily, clearing interpreting Harry’s staring as hostile.

“Hi, Malfoy,” replied Harry, snapping out of it a bit and extending his arm.

Malfoy seemed mollified somewhat, and shook Harry’s hand.

“Harry,” said Narcissa, turning her sharp blue eyes on him and offering her own, gloved hand.

“Hello, Mrs Malfoy,” said Harry, shaking it.

“Narcissa, please.” She looked Harry up and down, and while her countenance was distinctively cool, he recognised in her eye a level of the same sort fussiness as that of Molly Weasley. “You look very well,” she said, apparently satisfied.

“So do you.”

“You’re very sweet.”

“Yes, _isn’t_ he?” sneered Malfoy, and Narcissa gave him an almost imperceptible nudge.

“Ah, Narcissa!” Richard greeted, standing up. “So good of you to come.”

“Not at all, Richard, we wouldn’t have missed it. You’ll forgive us letting ourselves in, one of your elves showed us the way.”

“Oh, you know you’re welcome.”

“Say hello, Draco.”

Malfoy scowled, clearly feeling rather hen-pecked by all this, and nodded at Richard. “Mr Prince,” he said dully.

“So good to see you, Mr Malfoy.”

Harry watched the three curiously for a moment, thinking that, as it was with the Weasley children, it didn’t really matter how old they got; they were still children in their parents’ eyes. Like them, Malfoy regressed straight back into an adolescent around his mother.

The man with the long grey beard came over and mumbled something to Richard then, and he said, “Shall we begin? Do please take a seat, everyone.”

Narcissa took Malfoy by the arm and they sat down in the second row of chairs. Harry caught him giving the purple-faced man beside him a revolted look, and turned away to sit in the front row beside Severus before he started laughing.

As everyone took their seats, the old wizard stood before them in front of the casket, and began the dreary service. He opened by reading out a few lines of what Harry thought might be a poem or just a quote from an old book, and then began to talk about Severus Prince.

“He was a dutiful and hardworking man,” rasped the wizard after several tiresome minutes of describing old Prince’s upbringing and work for Gringotts. He’d made plenty of money for himself, but Harry doubted that the man was a favourite amongst the Goblins there. “His values were rooted in the _traditional_ ways, and they served him well throughout his life...”

Someone coughed. Harry glanced to the side to see Eileen dabbing at her eye with a handkerchief.

“...But death came for him, as it comes for us all. A tragic loss at the age of a hundred and three – ”

Harry’s eyes widened.

“ – but nevertheless, a life well lived. He is survived by his children Eileen and Richard, and by his grandson, Severus.”

Harry practically _felt_ Severus grit his teeth, and unthinkingly put a hand over his to calm him. Almost immediately he feared he might have made things worse, but having done so, he felt unable to remove it, and floundered silently for a moment until Severus turned his hand over slightly to squeeze it back in reassurance.

Finally, the service ended and people began milling about. A tray of drinks materialised out of thin air and hovered in the corner of the room, which went mostly ignored as Eileen was helped by Richard to go over to the casket, and they were followed by the two old ladies and the purple-faced man.

“Thank goodness that’s over,” Severus murmured to Harry. They were still in their seats, and Harry smiled at him.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes. Now that it’s over.”

“It was quite lengthy.”

“And yet, surprisingly devoid of any information regarding the treatment of his daughter. Remarkable, don’t you think? Still, the amount of attendees speaks for itself. I mean, who do you suppose _they_ are?” Severus nodded at the two old women.

“Business people? To do with Gringotts?”

“Perhaps. I was thinking perhaps his lovers.”

Harry snorted and quickly turned it into a cough.

When Eileen came back, looking teary but rather put together, Severus took the opportunity to introduce her to Narcissa and Draco.

Richard, meanwhile, wandered over to sit beside Harry. “It’s really good of you and Severus to be here,” he said rather awkwardly.

Harry gave a polite smile. “It meant a lot to Eileen,” he replied by way of explanation.

“Oh, and to me. I – I sincerely regret how things have been...”

Harry sat up in his chair uncomfortably. “Yes.”

Richard bit his lip nervously, and Harry marvelled at how such an edgy man could be related to his husband. “Do you, er – like the house?”

“ – It’s very grand.”

“You must have a tour.”

“Oh, yes!” exclaimed Eileen, having shaken off Severus’s attempts to get her to take a seat again. “We must have a look round – Severus, will you join us?”

“Mr Prince was kind enough to show me last week,” said Severus, as Harry caught Malfoy’s eye and they exchanged a look.

Eileen sniffed. “ _Harry_ will accompany us, won’t you?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Harry uncertainly.

“And you, Mr Malfoy, would you like to see the house?”

“ – Oh, er – yes, please,” said Malfoy after a rather desperate pause.

~o~

The house was nowhere near the run-down state that Grimmauld Place had once been in, but it was still gloomy; most of the light should have been provided by wall candelabras, many of which were empty. The décor in the house had evidently not changed in at least fifty years.

Richard led Harry, Eileen and Malfoy up the first flight of stairs to see another drawing room, two studies and an ornate bathroom. Harry was rather worried that it might be a bit much for Eileen, but she seemed invigorated by returning to her family home, and she leant determinately on both her walking stick and Richard as she walked. She chatted merrily with him about certain objects that brought things back, and the siblings laughed together from time to time, as if they’d never been apart. With Malfoy in tow, it was easily one of the more bizarre experiences Harry had had since the war.

With each room they visited, it was plainly obvious which ones had been decorated by whom. Adelaide Prince had liked frills, trinkets, and books, while her husband had favoured dark wood, shining brass, and art. In Severus Prince’s study, there was a particularly beautiful hourglass carved with runes around the edge, and holding glittering black sand.

“These were all the rage in the early eighteenth century,” said Richard to Harry. “I expect your family has one, don’t they Mr Malfoy?”

“Actually, we have three,” drawled Malfoy who was flipping through an old spell book. “One can get almost sick to death of them, really.”

“...Yes, well, your father’s family probably had one, too, Mr Potter!” Richard’s face drew up worriedly then. “Although – I imagine it must have been destroyed...” He trailed off and looked away.

Later, when Richard and Eileen were examining one of their mother’s letters in her private study, Malfoy approached Harry. “Took my advice to heart, did you?” he said in a low voice.

“Er, sorry?” said Harry, frowning at him.

Malfoy smirked. “From what I hear, you and Severus have been getting on like a house on fire.”

Harry shrugged and pretended to examine one of the moving childhood portraits of Adelaide. “Yes, we’ve been fine.”

“Mm – especially if you’ve got him involved with your charge.”

Harry looked at him. “You mean Teddy?”

“Yes.”

“Not spying on us, are you?”

Malfoy raised a pale eyebrow. “If _spying_ constitutes asking a mutual acquaintance how you’re getting along.”

“Who?”

“Where’s the fun in telling you?”

Not wanting Malfoy to enjoy himself too much, Harry looked away, pretending to be uninterested. “Oh, I see.”

“Glad to see you’re appreciating him finally.”

“Oh, I _am_.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Malfoy went unexpectedly pink when he finally processed his meaning, but Harry left him there to go and join the others.

When the four of them returned to the corridor, Richard drew their attention to the portraits lining the walls. Many of them were landscapes collected by old Severus, and Harry thought of the one hanging above Eileen’s fireplace. Among the many portraits, there were none that included a likeness of her anywhere.

“What about this one?” Eileen pointed at a large, gilt-framed portrait of an empty chair.

“ – Ah, yes,” said Richard tentatively. “That was Father’s portrait, painted about ten years ago. I’m afraid he walked out of it the day he died, and hasn’t been back since.”

Eileen just nodded.

They didn’t go up the second flight of stairs to the bedrooms, but when they returned to the ground floor, Richard led Eileen off downstairs to the kitchens, insisting they would be all right.

“Enjoy yourself?” asked Severus when Harry and Malfoy returned to the parlour, where only he, Narcissa, and the purple-faced man remained.

“It was certainly interesting,” said Harry.

He noticed that the casket was missing, and he frowned at the empty table, which had been moved further into the room, in confusion. “Did we miss something?”

“Nothing much. They’re preparing for the burial. They’ll signal us when they’re ready.”

How they would signal them, and what exactly they would be ready _for_ , Harry wasn’t completely certain of, but the thought went out of his mind when Narcissa approached him again.

“How are ‘Dromeda and Edward?” she asked him.

“They’re well. I’m seeing them tomorrow.”

Narcissa nodded. “I haven’t been to their home yet. I thought it best to await an owl before doing so, but my sister hasn’t sent one.”

Harry swallowed. “She... sort of prefers a casual approach, doesn’t she? I’m sure you can just knock on the door.”

With most people Harry wouldn’t dare suggest this on their behalf, but Andromeda had always said, “If Cissy wants me, she knows where I am.”

It was strange, realising that there was more than one family shattered by the same conventions and prejudices in this room. Even stranger that a woman as evil as Bellatrix had obviously left more than one broken-hearted sister, but this time not necessarily because of the terrible things she’d done. Once, the three women had loved each other, and now the remaining two were still trying to recover from the deeds and absence of the one they’d lost. Suddenly, it didn’t seem quite so out of place picturing Narcissa and Severus sharing a real, true friendship. They probably understood each other far better than Harry could, and the thought warmed him slightly.

Narcissa still looked rather uncertain, but she smiled at Harry and said, “I think I will.”

There was a pop, and the elderly, bearded wizard appeared by the table, upon which was a large, blue glass bottle. “Is everyone ready?” he asked in his raspy voice.

The purple-faced man went to find Richard, and when they and Eileen returned, everyone was directed to place their hand upon the bottle. The bearded wizard counted down from ten, and then Harry felt the familiar sensation behind his navel, and for the second time in his life, portkeyed into a cemetery.

What differentiated it from a Muggle graveyard was the distinct lack of any angels or scripture upon the stonework. There were, however, a few carved, shrouded figures that looked horribly like Dementors, and Harry shuddered as he stepped away from the group and looked towards an open grave, where the closed casket of Severus Prince was now balanced over. They were surrounded by hilly woodland on either side, not a speck of civilization visible anywhere, and there were a few specks of rain mingled with the cold wind which blew around them.

The group picked their way around the other graves solemnly, until they stood before two twin headstones. Adelaide had been buried some time before, and her headstone was growing a bit of lichen.

Harry, Severus, the Malfoys and the purple-faced man stood a couple of feet back from Richard and Eileen, who watched as the casket began to lower magically into the ground. Both produced handfuls of what looked like earth and petals from nowhere, and scattered it into the grave.

~o~

Harry and Severus made Eileen lunch and left her in front of the television. After the burial, she had quickly been tired out saying her goodbyes and thanks to everyone, and so they’d accompanied her back to Weaver’s Road and settled her into her chair. She thanked them both, but asked to be left alone with her thoughts for a while.

“Are you sure you'll be all right, Mother?” Severus asked her.

“Yes, yes,” replied Eileen, waving dismissively. “Jenny's coming over in a few hours. I'd just... like some time.”

Severus, Harry thought, had been quite glad of a reason to leave and get away from Richard, who had become quite emotional after they’d left the cemetery. When they arrived back a Hogwarts he threw himself down onto their sofa, as was becoming quite the habit, and closed his eyes. “Never again,” he said wearily.

Harry grinned and leant over the back of the sofa, admiring Severus's features, even upside down as they appeared to him like that. “Fancy a bath after lunch?” he asked innocently.

Severus opened an eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your amazing responses to the last chapter. I've had the majority of these basically written up for a while but sometimes orchestrating conversation with loads of characters is a nightmare, so I was pleased to get this one done.
> 
> Apologies if the funeral doesn't make much sense either. It's kind of a combination of a funeral and a wake, I guess. It's the wizarding world so that's my excuse.
> 
> Lots of love to you all, and stay safe! Hope you enjoy! xxx


	29. A Suggestion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus and Harry spend the rest of the afternoon together. After visiting Teddy and Andromeda, Harry brings Teddy back to Hogwarts for another Sunday at the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, big big apologies for a couple of things. First, of course, the fact I haven’t updated in over two months. I can’t believe it’s been that long!! Despite another lockdown, work is crazy, and I made this chapter all the more awkward by ending it before the day was over... so I also apologise for the terrible structure, but having wrestled with it for weeks I’m just going to post it and hopefully I can get back into the swing of things soon enough. I don’t know how regularly I’ll update from now on, but I’m still around and not intending to abandon this or anything.
> 
> Just to warn there is some sex in this part :P

The bath was a welcome relief. What felt like days of tension began to ebb away the moment Harry lowered himself into the steaming water, and he let out a small sigh. Before he relaxed completely, he slid to sit against the end of the tub and make room for Severus, who gave him the usual raised eyebrow but promptly followed suit and sat with his back to him. “ _Family_ ,” he muttered under his breath.

“Hm?” said Harry, sinking a little further down into the water, his legs bracketing Severus’s. He couldn’t see his face, but Severus shook his head slightly, sending his black locks swaying from side to side. When he said nothing more, Harry grabbed a bottle from the little table beside them, and took Severus’s arm gently; encouraging him to lean back against his own chest, and slowly got to work massaging some conditioning shampoo into his scalp.

“I may need to go back to her before next week,” murmured Severus, his eyes closed as Harry carefully worked his fingers through his hair.

“Eileen?”

“Yes. She wants to be alone for now but it won’t last long. I warned her that the funeral would upset her.”

“...Maybe she just needed to get it out of her system.”

“If only she would.”

Severus lay his head back on Harry’s shoulder, and Harry dropped a kiss on his forehead.

“Your hair’s getting long,” Severus mused out loud, pulling his face back just slightly from where wisps of Harry’s black locks were tickling his nose.

“Yeah,” said Harry, removing a hand from Severus’s head to tuck the loose strands behind his ears. He wondered if his hair; or any part of his appearance still reminded Severus of his father. “Did,” he began to say, stopping to moisten his mouth slightly as he returned his hand to work through Severus’s own dark tresses. “Did your mum tell you about purebloods and half-bloods and all that? When you were a child, I mean.”

“It came up. She had to explain her own situation to me, after all.”

Harry nodded. Perhaps it was the heat, or just the water itself, but when he glanced down at the visible areas of Severus’s skin, he could make out a few little scars here and there that he had never seen before. The ones creeping over his shoulder were obviously from Nagini; shallower tears or stress marks that were usually dominated by the more severe scarring. But dotted across his forearms (and, Harry had felt, across his spine), were some much older wounds, stretched and whitened with age. Harry stroked his hands through Severus’s slippery hair, and wondered if the man really had found peace in just forgetting the more turbulent fragments of his past.

“How about you?” Severus asked after a moment. “I don’t expect your aunt told you much about it.”

“...No,” said Harry. “Hagrid sort of explained when I was eleven, but I really began to understand it more in my second year.”

“Ah, yes. The Chamber of Secrets.”

“Actually, it started when Malfoy insulted Hermione. It didn’t really land with her because she didn’t know what ‘Mudblood’ meant, but Ron was furious. He tried to hex Malfoy, only his wand was broken and it backfired. He was throwing up slugs for hours.”

“Mm, I seem to remember hearing something about that.”

Harry rolled his eyes. He could just picture Malfoy describing with glee Ron’s accident to the rest of the Slytherins. “And then the attacks started and everything. I mean, I knew Salazar Slytherin didn’t want to teach Muggleborns, but I never thought anyone would go that far. Well, except for Voldemort.”

“Indeed. Tom Riddle was just one out of a long line of people who fancied themselves as the great, cleansing force for the wizarding world.”

“Yes. And then there was Lucius Malfoy and giving the diary to Ginny. Somehow, that was what really hammered it home – how much he hated Muggleborns, and even though she was from a Pureblood family, their sympathy towards Muggles meant that in his eyes she deserved to be exposed to that. I don’t know if he knew how that thing worked, but the moment he heard about the attacks at the school, he would have known what triggered them starting again.”

“All in all, a trying year for you.”

Harry snorted softly. Maybe they shouldn’t be talking about blood prejudices right now, he realised. “Yeah,” he replied. “If it hadn’t been for Lockhart as well, I might have been all right.”

“He certainly leant those months a special flavour, didn’t he?”

Harry nodded. “He _must_ have been an Occlumens.”

“ – How so?”

“Well, unless you _knew_ he was a fraud? Or did you just never sense anything was off?”

“Ah, I see.” Severus shifted gently under the water, clearing deep in thought. “I suspected that he’d embellished the accounts in his books; maybe even had a few lucky but genuine escapes, but I must admit I had no idea they weren’t even his stories in the first place.”

“But you don’t think he was an Occlumens?”

“...Perhaps the issue was that he was not intelligent. Cunning, certainly, in his scheming and the extraordinary display he put on, but not quite enough. No doubt he thought so highly of himself I didn’t pick up on his more blatant falsehoods. He believed so much in his own worth and superiority that it was frankly repulsive looking into his mind, let alone trying to understand him.”

Harry snickered.

Severus’s lip curled. “I do remember getting something from him when he looked at you once; during that awful Duelling Club. It was a flash of interest tinged with greed, but I thought perhaps he was plotting something for your next photo shoot together. Now, I wonder if he may have had designs on some of your memories.”

“He did,” said Harry, mildly disturbed by Severus’s description of Lockhart’s thoughts. “Thank Merlin for Ron’s broken wand.”

They spent a while longer relaxing, and then Harry helped Severus to rinse off his hair.

“Do you want me to come with you – when you visit Eileen?” Harry asked as he kept Severus’s head tipped back.

“No. Visit Teddy, we’ll be fine.”

“Are you still all right if I bring him back with me on Sunday again?”

“Of course,” replied Severus. “What time will you leave tomorrow?”

“Probably about eleven.” Harry hesitated. “I thought about having him here for a whole weekend sometime.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Well, I’ll have to ask him about it. Sleeping in strange places can be a bit much for him. He might have to warm up to the idea.”

Severus nodded, and Harry reminded himself to ask Andromeda about inviting him to lunch one day. If Teddy was going to start spending more time with them, then Severus and Andromeda really ought to try and get to know each other a bit. It was something that might not happen, he knew, as both parties would have to be willing, but it was definitely worth an attempt.

As the bathwater cooled around them, they shared some more anecdotes about Lockhart from school, including an incident in the staff room Severus described that had Harry near hysterics. Severus didn’t exactly laugh, but he smiled in a way that indicated he was enjoying his mirth as he finally pulled himself up out of the tub, and then held a hand out to Harry, who took it gratefully.

Once he was standing on the tiled floor, Harry went to let go of Severus’s hand, but found the man was still holding onto him. Severus was watching him closely, his lack eyes shifting as they took in Harry’s face, and Harry was reminded of when they’d held hands earlier at the funeral, and he felt his heart jolt in excitement.

The kiss was gentle yet firm, Severus folding Harry into his embrace. Harry shivered, grateful for the contact as his wet skin rapidly cooled. Severus released him a moment later to grab a couple of towels, and when they were both somewhat dry he took Harry’s hand to drag him into his own bedroom. Once inside, Severus pulled him in again for another kiss; rougher this time as he massaged his fingers across Harry’s scalp. Harry craned his neck up slightly to meet him, and soon Severus abandoned his mouth in favour of lavishing attention upon his exposed throat.

Harry gasped, pushing into the contact as he gripped Severus’s shoulders. They were both already hard; and he couldn’t prevent his hips from rocking desperately against Severus’s hip a few times to take the edge off.

Severus let out a snarl against the crook of Harry’s neck, and took a hold of his sides to spin them and walk him to the edge of the bed. As Harry let himself fall back onto the mattress, he tried to drag Severus down with him but the man resisted.

“Need you,” hissed Severus. “Now.” He waved a hand at the little table by the bed, and one of the drawers burst out to allow the little bottle of oil to fly up and into his hand. That was when he finally joined Harry; pushing a knee between the younger man’s thighs in an unspoken request for him to open them wider.

Harry grinned and spread his legs to accommodate him, still with his hands outreached in his effort to touch anything of Severus he could manage. He bit his lip as Severus gently thumbed the base of his cock to further relax him, and he tilted his hips up in a signal of invitation. Severus’s eyes seemed darker even than usual; positively shining as his index finger breached Harry’s entrance. His own cock was huge and nearly purple with arousal, and Harry whined at the sight of it, wanting it inside him now.

Severus prepared him carefully, taking the time to find Harry’s prostate and make him writhe a bit despite his own impatience.

“I’m ready, I’m _ready_ ,” Harry panted after a couple of minutes, and Severus finally removed his fingers and reached to pull Harry’s hips up to meet his own.

As Severus entered him, Harry had to clutch at the pillow just above his own head just to control himself. It didn’t take too long before they were properly joined, and he gave a small cry of something like relief and excitement. Carefully, Severus rearranged them; pushing forwards and bearing down so that Harry was nearly folded in half, and he could lean down to kiss him. The action pushed his cock even further inside the younger man, and both of them let out a groan against each other’s lips. He began to thrust, gently at first and then gathering momentum, biting and sucking at Harry’s neck and growling.

Harry moaned, his own hardness pressed between their stomachs and leaking messily all over their still damp skin. Severus was fucking him hard now; the headboard was thumping against the wall with each of his thrusts, and it didn’t take long before Harry was pushing back and yelling as he climaxed.

Severus held Harry’s pliant body to him as he finished, pressing kisses across his face and shuddering heavily. Finally, he braced one arm beside Harry and carefully rolled off him, just as Harry let out a blissed-out sigh.

Severus chuckled. “Enjoy that, did you?” he asked, voice thick from pleasure.

Harry shuffled towards him, curling into his side. “You know I did.”

They lay together in silence, Harry placing the odd kiss along Severus’s chest every now and then until he fell into a light doze.

~o~

Andromeda was waiting for Harry when he entered her kitchen the next morning. Her arms were folded across her chest and she had a distant look on her face. “We’ve just had a visitation,” she said blankly, “from my sister.”

“Oh!” said Harry, lifting Teddy over the grate and setting him down.

“Auntie Sister,” Teddy affirmed, appearing from behind Andromeda and running to hug Harry, his blue hair practically windswept.

“Auntie _Cissa_ , Teds,” Andromeda corrected.

Harry nodded, picking Teddy up to give him a squeeze. “She said she might drop in... and so I might have encouraged her to.” He shot her an apologetic look.

Andromeda relaxed suddenly. “No, it’s all right. But – how did you convince her?”

“I sort of told her she should just... do it.”

Andromeda rolled her eyes. “Typical. She won’t take _my_ word for it that she can just come over.”

Harry put Teddy down, and the boy ran back out of the room. “How did it go?”

“Fine.” Andromeda sniffed and glared at the floor for a moment, as though this almost annoyed her for some reason.

“...Were you hoping for a fight?” Harry asked after a beat, and she looked back at him.

“ – Not – not exactly, just... I feel as though we haven’t had it out properly, you know? I can’t say...” Andromeda paused as Teddy suddenly appeared again, holding a flimsy Muggle photo album.

“These are the pictures from my school trip!” Teddy announced.

The three of them moved to sit at the kitchen table as Teddy pointed out all of his friends to Harry and denied that the blurred photographs of various tiny wellie-boots had been taken accidentally.

“How did you find the funeral?” asked Andromeda when Teddy had finally grown bored and run upstairs to his bedroom. “Cissa just said it went smoothly.”

“Yeah,” Harry replied, placing his overnight bag down on the dining table. “It was interesting.”

“How do you think Severus is doing?”

“He’s okay, but he’s a bit worried about his mum.”

“Yes, she always looked a bit delicate, that woman.”

“Speaking of how Severus is doing... I was thinking, you could ask him yourself – if you came for dinner one night. We were saying yesterday that Teddy could stay for a whole weekend with us if he’s up for it. And maybe that would be a good opportunity for you to join us for an evening.”

Andromeda gave a knowing sort of bob of the head, as if she’d been expecting this. “It’s time, is it?”

“I don’t want to make either of you uncomfortable, but I think it might be.”

Andromeda shrugged. “I suppose it’s more that we never even really had any affiliation. I always ‘sided’ with everything away from Slytherin, and then with the war and everything... Well, it was always going to be awkward. But you’re right. Seems he’s interested in a relationship with Teddy; who’d have thought it?” She levelled Harry with a close stare. “Have you had a talk with him about your relationship, then?”

Harry blushed. Maybe it was a bit hypocritical to ask this of Andromeda when he hadn’t spoken to Severus, but what with the funeral and everything it wasn’t like he’d really had the best opportunity recently. “I’m going to. Soon. But things have been going really well.”

Andromeda smiled softly. “Well, whatever I can do to help.”

“ – Don’t suppose you could give me a haircut, then?”

~o~

On Sunday morning, Harry awoke with a start. He jumped again when he found Teddy staring at him curiously from the foot of the bed.

“Nightmare?” asked Teddy knowingly.

“ – Yes,” Harry replied, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “Didn’t think to clear my mind before bed.”

“Huh?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Teddy shifted uncomfortably. “...You were _talking_. Sort of – crying. Are you upset?”

“No, no – I just got reminded of something bad the other day. It’s obviously still on my mind.”

Teddy lifted his little chin in understanding. “Right.”

Harry suppressed a shiver, and gave him a little smile.

After breakfast, Harry and Teddy Floo’d to Hogwarts. Severus was away visiting Eileen, much to Teddy’s disappointment, but Harry had agreed it was important Severus did so while his mother was feeling up to it.

The House Quidditch tryouts had already taken place the day before, but the Hufflepuff team was using the pitch for practice, and so the pair of them sat high up in the Gryffindor stands and watched. Teddy had a habit of clapping whenever anyone so much as kicked off the ground, but the Hufflepuffs still smiled and waved back at him in response.

“Auntie Cissa says I should try out for Quidditch when I get here,” he said importantly.

“Definitely,” said Harry. “Did you enjoy seeing her yesterday?”

“Mm – yes?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She gave me some sweets. And some pocket money.”

“That was nice.”

“Yeah.” Teddy whooped as the two beaters began circling the stadium in tandem. His little arms lowered again, and he turned to Harry with a small frown on his face. “Why is Severus busy?”

“He’s visiting his mum,” said Harry.

Teddy stared up at him, wide-eyed. “He has a _mum?”_

“Of course he does.”

“ _We_ don’t.”

Harry blinked at that. “Well, we _did_ have. I suppose I see what you mean, though.”

They stayed to watch the Hufflepuffs practice at defending and shooting at the goals with the Quaffle, and then returned inside to Harry and Severus’s quarters. When they came in through the portrait, they found Severus there, looking out of the window just to the right of the fireplace. He turned as they entered, and Teddy boldly left Harry’s side to wander over and look up at him.

“You’re back!” he said simply.

Severus raised an eyebrow at him, but when he spoke his voice was surprisingly soft. “Indeed,” he said.

“All right?” Harry asked him.

“Yes.” Severus gave him an appraising look. “You’ve had your hair cut.”

“Oh, yeah. Don’t expect it will stay this length for long, but I thought I’d keep on top of it before I forget again.”

“It suits you,” remarked Severus, and Harry felt a wave of warmth come over him. “I trust you’ve had a pleasant weekend?”

“Yeah, really great wasn’t it, Teds?”

“Yep,” said Teddy, still staring up at Severus with a fascination that was clearly unnerving the man slightly.

“Teddy,” said Harry, making the boy turn. “We were wondering if you’d like to stay a full weekend some time?”

“Here?” Teddy looked between the two of them.

“Of course,” said Severus.

Harry nodded. “You don’t _have_ to, but I was thinking if your grandma came here for dinner to drop you off you can see how you feel,” he said. “And then you can sleep wherever you like, so you won’t get nightmares.”

“ _You_ get nightmares,” said Teddy, as if he felt he was being accused of something.

Harry opened his mouth, feeling slightly caught off guard by the child’s response. “...Yes. Well, we all do, sometimes.”

“But you get them a lot. Like this morning – you did.”

Harry shrugged. It wasn’t as though he could deny it. “ – Yeah. But – I mean, we can make you comfortable here. If you’d like to stay. Do you think you would?”

Teddy suddenly seemed to realise what Harry had asked him in the first place. “Oh, yes please!”

“Great! Well, it’s lunchtime soon. Let’s get your coat off.”

Harry helped Teddy out of his coat and scarf, all the while conscious of Severus watching him with a strange look on his face. He mouthed "I'm fine" over at him, not wanting to get into a discussion about his nightmares again. It would be too complicated to explain, and besides, it had been a long time since he’d dreamed about Cedric Diggory’s death. Traumatic things had a way of resurfacing, and so it was no surprise that after visiting the graveyard on Friday it had been on his mind.

Nevertheless, he felt Severus's gaze drift towards him throughout the rest of the afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to those of you who have continued to read and left messages, kudos and bookmarks. It honestly warms my heart and means so much that you guys are enjoying this. Love you all and continue to stay safe! x


End file.
